


Twenty-Five Hours

by 0lizzybennet0



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Flirting at 40000ft in the air, Getting Together, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0lizzybennet0/pseuds/0lizzybennet0
Summary: In which Yuuri spends a 25 hour flight next to Victor Nikiforov, skating legend, and feels it might simultaneously be the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the start of the series, if Yuuri and Victor had never met at the banquet and Yuuri never skated Victor's routine.

_0 hours and 50 minutes until take-off_

Yuuri slid a bookmark between the pages of his book and gently closed it. Almost five minutes until boarding. He stretched and rolled his shoulders against the wall, pushing fern leaves out of his face. All the seats had been taken by the time he arrived at the gate and he’d tucked himself down on the floor instead. It was a quiet spot, hidden between a pillar and a pot plant, and he’d spent the past twenty minutes sitting there on the tiles charging his phone.

He heard the quick footsteps before he saw the person. Nice looking sneakers shoved into view in front of him as someone ran directly into his spot. Grabbing his phone, Yuuri yanked his knees to his chest and glanced up.

Victor Nikiforov was stripping in front of him.

His hoodie. Scarf. Victor. Victor was ripping clothes off. Yuuri’s book fell from his limp fingers to the floor.

‘Fans are following me and I’m hiding.’ Victor shoved in close against the wall, breathing heavily and down to his t-shirt.

‘Um-’

‘It’s not that I’m ungrateful but my flight is boarding in five minutes and I’m tired,’ Victor said all in one breathless whisper.

Yuri stared.

Footsteps clattered down the hall behind the potted fern and a group of teenagers charged past in a sudden burst of noise. Hands braced against the wall, Victor held his gaze and Yuuri was pinned in place by blue eyes. They stared silently at each other as the herd thundered by and echoed down the walkway. It was almost an afterthought to realise he was holding his breath. Finally, Victor blinked and looked away. He glanced over his shoulder and carefully leaned away from the wall, craning his neck to look down the walkway. Yuuri watched mesmerised as Victor’s collarbone jutted out, a sharp line beneath pale skin.

‘Well,’ Victor’s voice lifted as he turned back to Yuuri, ‘that was exciting. My apologies for dumping those clothes on you, I thought it would make me less noticeable.’

Yuuri wordlessly held up his clothes, receiving another grin in return. Victor’s smile was ever so slightly lopsided, how had he never noticed that in the pictures? Their hands brushed as he took back his clothes and Yuuri tried to stop staring at his face.

 

_0 hours and 35 minutes until take-off_

Someone probably announced the boarding call, someone probably checked his pass, his passport was probably scanned, but in a daze, Yuuri wandered down the aerobridge with no real memory of how he’d got there.

It was obvious that Victor had no idea who he was, for which Yuuri was both eternally grateful and slightly depressed. He was glad Victor did not immediately recognise him as the skater who failed so spectacularly at the GPF, however it was disheartening that he had made so little impression even despite failing spectacularly. Was he really that plain and boring? No, Yuuri decided, he was going to spend the next half an hour feeling depressed rather than grateful.

The plane was half full when the attendant waved Yuuri down the right side aisle and it took a few minutes of weaving and waiting to reach his seat. The plane was a big airbus, one of the ones with two aisles and a set of four seats in the centre row. He’d tried to book a seat on the centre aisle but the system had allocated him the next one along, stating that 54D was unavailable. When he’d then tried to take 54G that too was unavailable. At that point he simply took the middle seat at risk of being allocated somewhere worse and resolved to be more organised next time.

Sat in his 54E seat, it was with a distant sort of horror that Yuuri watched Victor approach down the aisle. Twice in one day. He hurriedly looked down at his bag and leaned forward in the seat, waiting for Victor to pass. Was seeing him at the airport not bad enough? Why did they have to be _on the same flight?_ He should have realised when Victor said he was boarding in five minutes. Yuuri groaned into his hands. What would he have done anyway? Changed flight? Victor didn’t recognise him so what did it matter? Still, Yuuri kept his face down and tried not to feel completely inadequate.

‘Hello again,’ a familiar accented voice said cheerfully.

Yuuri died on the inside.

‘Who is this?’ Another voice asked with a definite note of annoyance.

‘Someone you’ve just offended probably,’ Victor said calmly as he shoved his bag into the overhead locker. He bent down and flashed Yuuri a smile. ‘Sorry, ignore him. He is young and unpleasant.’

‘Hey.’ Young and Unpleasant thumped into the seat beside Yuuri and stared at him. ‘This armrest?’ He tapped the one between their seats. ‘This one is mine, so don’t even think about touching it.’

‘Ah, Yuri, so charming. Try not to flirt so obviously with the nice man.’ Victor slid gracefully into his seat and flashed Yuri a wink.

The teenager turned bright red and shoved himself halfway across Yuuri’s space, hissing a response. ‘I wasn’t fucking flirting with him you-’ he spat out rapid-fire Russian. Yuuri cringed back into the headrest. Victor shot back in Russian, cool and unruffled as he untangled his headset. Fervently wishing he was elsewhere, Yuuri stared straight ahead and attempted to mould with the seat as the two argued at an increasingly rapid pace across him. This was going to be a fantastic 15 hours. Yuri wrenched off his seatbelt and-

‘Yakov.’ A large hand suddenly appeared in front of Yuuri, palm offered. Yuri was silent and pinned to the seat with Yakov’s other hand spread firmly over his face.

Yuuri tentatively shook Yakov’s outstretched hand. ‘Yuuri.’

Unpleasant Yuri made an indignant noise into Yakov’s hand. Victor threw his head back and laughed. Even Yakov’s face cracked into something that could be briefly termed a smile.

‘So, my saviour speaks.’ Bright blue eyes stared into Yuuri’s, crinkled at the edge with amusement. ‘I’m Victor.’

_My entire bedroom is covered in pictures of your face._

‘Nice to meet you, Victor,’ Yuuri said politely and slipped his hand into Victor’s. He was touching Victor Nikiforov. Touching him. His hand was warm and soft, grip firm. Yuuri could feel the individual press of every one of Victor’s fingers against the back of his hand. His internal scream was close to becoming external and he forced his expression to remain blank.

Victor withdrew his hand with a friendly smile and Yuuri congratulated himself on having handled that with minimal overt creepiness. He’d just never be able to wash his hand ever again now. Yuuri sank back into his seat and stared fixedly at the blank screen ahead. It was also possible he wouldn’t be able to use the bathroom for the entire flight as that would involve either climbing over the aggressive Russian teenager and the stoic man or shuffling his backside past Victor’s face and all things considered he’d rather just let his bladder burst.

‘I think perhaps I didn’t make a good impression earlier?’

Surprised, Yuuri turned without thinking to face Victor. Who was leaning against the armrest. Putting his face approximately three inches from Victor’s. How was he supposed to do this? An entire flight next to Victor, who was openly regarding him with a faint smile and the most perfect blue eyes?

‘You surprised me,’ Yuuri said awkwardly.

‘Ah,’ Victor looked down and toyed with the edge of the armrest, ‘well, if that was all it was-’ he glanced up at Yuuri, still with that smile.

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond to that or even what response Victor was looking for. Confused, he looked away. ‘Do you want to change seats?’

‘Nope,’ Victor said cheerfully, ‘this seat is perfect.’

 

_0 hours and 0 minutes_

The plane taxied slowly out across the runways. Victor already had his headphones in and was slumped comfortably back in the seat. Yuri was rapidly switching between the outside cameras, leaning closer to his screen with a widening grin. On his right, Yakov was downing what looked like sleeping tablets and adjusting the height of his compression socks. With a final grimace, Yakov tucked his hands under his arms and leaned back in the seat like a man condemned.

As the plane lifted off, Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder what he’d got himself into.

 

_1 hour and 03 minutes_

‘Sorry to wake you,’ Victor said quietly, ‘they’re bringing the food around. I thought you might want to wake up for dinner.’

Yuuri blinked and shoved his glasses back up. He added _waking up to Victor_ _’s hand on my shoulder_ to the list of things he would never forget. ‘That would depend on what the dinner is,’ Yuuri muttered. He hid his face to the side and hurriedly felt over his cheek. What if he had drooled in his sleep? What if Victor saw?

‘Do you fly much? You sound like a man who has flown before.’

‘A few times.’ He could do this, he could talk normally to Victor. He could be casual. ‘You?’

‘For work, yes. A lot.’ Victor accepted something covered in foil from the flight attendant. He politely passed across Yuuri’s pasta meal. ‘I don’t usually do this sort of distance though.’

‘I suppose it’s plenty of time to catch up on movies.’ He was going to be casual if it killed him. He ripped the lid off the water cup and took a quick gulp.

‘Any recommendations for me?’

‘I - I was going to watch Disney movies,’ Yuuri confessed, because apparently being both casual _and_ cool was more than he could handle.

To his surprise Victor’s face lit up. He bit his fork, holding it between his teeth as he tapped at the screen with both hands. ‘D’you reckon they have 101 Dalmatians?’ His voice was muffled and slurred around the fork. ‘I love dogs.’ He removed the fork. ‘I love dogs,’ he clarified and then looked at Yuuri. ‘Sorry, I’m keeping you from eating. Ignore me, I’ll fall asleep soon enough.’

 

_1 hour and 05 minutes_

Yuuri swallowed and flicked a glance across at Victor. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m not sure if this is really pasta.’

Foil rustling, Victor looked up from unwrapping his meal. Within a minute or two he had made another comment on the quality of aeroplane food and Yuuri relaxed, reassured his invitation to continue talking had been understood.

It was established by joint investigation that no, the grey mass on the tray definitely didn’t look like pasta. Victor leaned just a little across their shared armrest and watched as Yuuri carefully unwrapped each item on his tray. He was close enough that Yuuri could see each individual crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Yuuri pulled the plastic off a rock hard bread roll and fought to keep his gaze fixed ahead. He ripped the packaging from his cutlery. Slowly, his gaze crept sideways. Victor had the smallest brown freckle to the left of his nose.

‘Do I have something on my face?’

Yuuri felt his face burn and his heart squeezed in his throat. ‘You have a freckle.’

_Idiot!_ Why did he say that?

For a moment Victor just looked surprised. Then his expression settled into something that could only be called playful. ‘This one?’ He tapped his cheek and tilted his head, gazing at Yuuri.

Glowing with embarrassment, Yuuri could only nod. Salvation came in the form of an aggressive teenager, rescuing him from Victor’s openly contemplative, amused gaze.

‘Why does his look better than mine?’ Yuri demanded and stabbed his fork accusingly at Yuuri’s meal.

It was a moment of solidarity between the three of them as they inspected the contents of Yuri’s tray.

‘That’s quite disgusting,’ Victor said finally. Yuuri wanted to agree but felt somewhat uncomfortable criticising a relative stranger’s food. ‘I thought I’d seen everything cabbage related. I’m Russian,’ Victor confided to Yuuri, ‘we know cabbage.’

‘You sound like Gru when you speak English,’ Yuri cut in.

‘Yuri,’ Victor said quite pleasantly, ‘I am going to take this carrot and I am going to shove-’

Yuri cackled.

‘Are you both from Russia?’

‘ _He_ _’s_ Russia’s golden boy-’

‘Better that than Russia’s brat,’ Victor said loudly.

‘I don’t chased through airports by stupid fans-’

Victor sighed and rolled his eyes at Yuri before turning to face Yuuri. ‘I have competed in athletic events and I have a small number of fans, that’s all. If you could not refer to them as _stupid_ ,’ that was directed pointedly at Yuri, who sniggered in response and stabbed at his food.

Modesty was not a trait Yuuri had expected Victor to possess. Honesty, open and occasionally unthinking, was more Victor’s style. He was as quick to criticise his own performance when justified as he was to declare his competence.

‘Anyway,’ Victor continued, ‘I’ll be stopping that soon so it hardly matters.’

Yuuri choked on pasta.

 

_2 hours and 14 minutes_

Quitting skating?

Aeroplane blanket draped around his shoulders, Victor slumped back in the seat and played with his phone, a half-frown on his face. Yuuri tried to imagine a skating world without Victor Nikiforov in it. He was magic. How could he quit? He could still remember the wonder and excitement he felt seeing Victor skate for the first time, the effortless way he moved and the grace in his body.

Victor absently rolled his headphone cable between his lips and scrolled on his phone. One knee bent and the other leg stretched out, he made even boredom look graceful. This was the man that had skated _Stammi Vicino_ and he was going to just stop? It’s true he was older than most figure skaters, but he was also better than most figure skaters. Why would he stop? His performance at last year’s GPF had been nothing short of technical perfection. Yuuri stared back at his screen and watched blankly, taking nothing in, his mind fixed entirely on the man sitting next to him.

After another five minutes he gave up. Yanking his headphones off, Yuuri switched off the screen. His face glared back at him in the black reflection, confused and a little more annoyed than he had any right to be.

‘Movie not that good?’

Yuuri looked at him and Victor raised one ash blond eyebrow. Yuuri sighed and pushed his frustration aside. ‘Didn’t give it a chance really, I wasn’t watching it properly.’

Victor looked marginally less bored. ‘Thinking deep thoughts on this flight?’

‘Work.’ It was half true.

‘What do you do?’

‘Nothing I’m particularly good at. You?’

‘I’m in a - transitional stage, you could say.’

Yuuri curled his toes in his sneakers. ‘You said you were quitting competitive sport? That’s what you do, isn’t it?’

Lounging in his seat, Victor still managed to look comfortably at ease, but a small frown line appeared between his eyebrows. ‘I’ve found that sometimes the reasons you have for doing something disappear over time, gradually, so slowly you don’t even notice. Until one day you realise they’ve gone and you’ve just been continuing out of habit. But, to answer your question with less drama, yes, I am thinking of stopping.’

‘What sort of sport?’

Victor looked at him for a long, quiet moment then smiled and shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter. Especially if I’m not doing it anymore, no? Come on, I’ve unburdened my thoughts to you, now you must tell me something in return.’

‘I’ve stopped practising for months now. I know what good looks like, and I don’t think I can ever get there.’

‘How long have you been practising this thing?’

‘Since I was about five or six.’

‘Bah,’ Victor waved it away, ‘then you’re either modest or lying to yourself.’

_‘_ What if,’ Yuuri slowly voiced what was eating at him, ‘what if like you, my reason had gone?’ _You, being like you, beating you, that was my reason for skating._

‘Then that would be a shame. I’d look at your reasons and make sure they were the right ones. Maybe you could find a better reason?’

‘Couldn’t you do the same?’

The last of the boredom disappeared from Victor’s face and he smiled a small, genuine smile. ‘Perhaps. I haven’t found one yet.’

 

_2 hours and 57 minutes_

 When Yuuri drifted out his half-nap, the seat next to him was empty. He immediately pulled himself out of his sleepy state to hurry to the toilet, seizing the opportunity granted by the empty seat. If he was really lucky Victor would still be gone by the time he came back and he wouldn’t have to shove past Victor’s seat with his butt at eye-height.

And despite all previous evidence to the contrary, it would seem in this moment the world smiled down at him because on his return the seat was still empty. Standing on his toes, Yuuri peered down the aisle and yep, seat was definitely still empty.

‘Stretching your legs too?’

Empty because its occupant was standing behind him. Yuuri turned around and promptly staggered as the plane jerked.

‘ _The Captain has switched on the fasten seatbelt sign, if everyone could please return t-_ _’_

Another drop and Yuuri stumbled forward. Victor caught his forearm and held him steady, his other hand hovering just above Yuuri’s waist. It could have been the roll and dip of the plane making Yuuri’s stomach clench, but Victor’s bright blue eyes were so close and his smile wide- Distracted, Yuuri found himself staring at the freckle on Victor’s cheek.

‘Nervous flyer?’

‘No,’ Yuuri said honestly.

‘Neither.’ Victor’s hand tightened on Yuuri’s arm as the plane shuddered again. ‘This is quite exciting.’ Quite casually he laid his hand on Yuuri’s waist.

‘We have to return to our seats.’

‘Mm, I know.’ Victor didn’t move his hands. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he wanted him to.

As it turned out, it wasn’t a decision he had to make. A flight attendant hurried up the aisle and shepherded them to their seats, citing brief turbulence. Doing up his seatbelt, Yuuri could still feel the pressure of Victor’s hand.

_What just happened?_

 

_4 hours and 22 minutes_

Cheek mashed against the edge of the headrest, Victor breathed heavily through his open mouth and gave the occasional snore.

It would have been a peaceful, cute scene if not for Yuri staring at Victor with undisguised glee and grinning like a goblin. He motioned at Victor and silently held out his phone to Yuuri. With only brief hesitation, Yuuri accepted the phone and received a thumbs up in return.

Even sleeping Victor looked unfairly handsome. Personally, Yuuri thought the photos he took just showed Victor at a different attractive angle, however Yuri clearly felt differently and seized the phone with both hands, swiping through and snickering.

‘If he drools, you take more,’ Yuri ordered in a whisper, pointing at Yuuri as he shuffled out of his seat and past Yakov.

 

_4 hours and 54 minutes_

Yuuri agonised over waking up Victor. On one hand, Yuri had been missing a long time. On the other hand, plane food wasn’t always the greatest and if it was him camping out in the bathroom, he’d really rather everyone just pretend he hadn’t been glued there for thirty-two minutes.

Finally, Yuuri touched Victor’s shoulder. He gave it a tentative shake.

‘I’m sorry to wake you up, and it might be absolutely nothing, but Yuri hasn’t come back to his seat.’

Victor screwed up his face and blinked. He slowly hauled himself upright and blinked again. ‘Sorry, what?’ His voice was rough with sleep and Yuuri felt his ears go red.

‘Yuri’s been gone for half an hour.’

It took a little longer for Victor to properly wake up to a state where he could process information and act on it. Watching Victor push his hair back and stretch, Yuuri felt like he was intruding on something. It was one thing to have posters of an idol on your wall, it was entirely something else to watch them yawn into the back of their hand and tug down a crumpled hoodie.

‘Alright,’ Victor pulled himself out of the seat, ‘let’s go find him.’

Yuuri wasn’t sure why Victor was including him in this search, but he scrambled out anyway.

It took approximately 10 seconds to locate Yuri.

A ring of flight attendants and a growing crowd of passengers surrounded one of the toilet doors, one of the passengers had their arm up against the door and was calling through. Victor froze and then shoved froward, pushing past people with badly concealed fear.

‘What happened? Is it Yuri in there? Is he okay?’

The flight attendant turned with professionally diplomatic expression. ‘The door appears to have jammed. It seems someone is temporarily stuck in there.’

Victor stared. Then he choked out a sudden laugh. He quickly composed his face and turned away. With one hand held up for silence, he slowly approached the toilet and leaned his shoulder against the door.

‘Yuri,’Victor’s voice shook with suppressed laughter, ‘Yuri, I hear you’ve trapped yourself in a toilet?’

A stream of angry Russian blasted out of the cubicle and Victor dissolved in laughter. If Yuuri had expected Victor to have a charming, refined laugh then he was wrong. Victor made a sound like a dying duck and snorted out a helpless honking noise. It was a fantastically ugly laugh. It was great. Victor choked back something in Russian and the door rocked with a violent thud. Victor slumped against the wall and cried into his hand.

Usually, an attendant explained, they could simply unlock the door from the outside, but it seemed something had stuck in the mechanism itself. Yuuri hung back as more capable people rattled and shoved strategically at the door, aided by the flight staff. Victor was banned from helping with the extraction efforts when it became apparent that all he wanted to do was take pictures and cry with laughter.

It was only a matter of minutes before the door clicked audibly and folded open, one woman having applied her engineering skills. Victor let out a shaky sigh and wiped his eyes.

Yuri emerged looking like murder.

Victor lost it again.

 

_5 hours and 02 minutes_

‘Hey, Yuri, remember that time you got stuck in an aeroplane toilet?’

Yuuri cringed back into his seat as Yuri shoved himself out and lunged for Victor.

 

_5 hours and 03 minutes_

‘Yuuri,’ Victor leaned in close and whispered loudly, ‘does something smell strange to you? Almost like…a toilet?’

At this point Yuuri was regretting his seat between Victor and Yuri. He was reminded quite forcefully of several long car trips with his sister when they were younger.

 

_5 hours and 05 minutes_

‘Yuuri-’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to swap seats?’ Yuuri asked loudly.

 

_5 hours and 09 minutes_

This time Victor managed to hold it in for a bit longer. But evidently the upper limit of his restraint was around five minutes.

‘We should tell embarrassing stories. It’ll pass the time. Yuri, you can give us a recap of the time you got trapped in a public toilet.’

Several explosive words later and more tears of laughter from Victor, and Victor returned in earnest to sharing stories.

‘Yuri doesn’t need to contribute because we already know his. You first, Yuuri.’

_Completely embarrassing himself on the ice yet still being so unremarkable that Victor didn_ _’t recognise him, not after the competition and not now?_

‘I - I fell during a competition. Everyone was watching…’ Yuuri trailed off, cursing his stupidity. He should have just made something up. Yuri was looking at him with narrowed eyes. Face bright red, Yuuri stared down at his feet.

‘Oh, a competition? You’re an athlete?’ Victor sounded delighted.

‘Just ballet.’ This time Yuuri had the sense to lie.

‘ _Oh_.’ This time there was a warmer note to the appreciation in Victor’s voice. Yuri groaned quietly. ‘Don’t suppose you have any pictures on your phone of you performing?’

Why exactly Victor cared about that was a mystery. Confused, Yuuri glanced between Yuri’s embarrassed face and Victor’s steady gaze. ‘No, sorry.’

‘Shame.’ Victor sounded like he meant it.

‘Big competitions?’ Yuri asked suddenly.

‘What?’

‘Have you performed in big competitions? You look familiar.’

‘ _No_. No. I’m definitely not that good. You wouldn’t have seen me, unless you came to a small town in Japan,’ Yuuri tried to joke and was very aware he reeked of desperation.

Yuri’s eyes were hard and blue and searching and Yuuri wanted to shrink back into his seat. ‘You’re Japanese?’

‘Yes.’ This wasn’t going anywhere good.

‘How old are you?’

‘Are we interrogating Yuuri?’ Victor leaned into the conversation, casually pressing his shoulder against Yuuri’s. ‘Can I join in?’

With a final searching stare, Yuri tucked back into his own seat and snapped his headphones on. Yuuri breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Don’t mind him. Of all the people I have sat beside on flights, you are quite my favourite.’

‘Oh.’ Yuuri swallowed. ‘Well, you’re my favourite too.’

Victor pushed their shared armrest up and tucked his knee up, shuffling in the seat to face Yuuri. For a brief moment he just watched with a half-smile. Then his smile deepened. ‘You haven’t heard my embarrassing story.’

Listening to Victor talk, the chatter and hum of conversation in the cabin faded. He was oddly captivating. This wasn’t what Yuuri had expected. It was true, he’d imagined what it might be like to meet his idol in person, what he might say and how he’d come off as calm and competent. Victor would be charming and friendly and would compliment him on his skating, and Yuuri would be left feeling validated as an equal. Instead this Victor was curled up in his seat, his hair messy and eyes engaging. He paused his story to laugh and rub his nose, continuing on with a sweeping hand gesture and another messy laugh.

Yuuri was barely following what Victor said, caught up instead in his expressions and the sound of his voice, until-

‘So do you think I have stubble again? I think I do.’ Victor dragged his palm down his jaw. ‘Can you see it?’

Honestly Yuuri couldn’t see anything. He said as much and tried not to stare as Victor rubbed over his cheek. It was unfairly mesmerising.

‘No really,’ Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hand and pressed it to his jaw, ‘feel that.’

There was the faintest of prickle beneath his hand. ‘I’d have to wait at least five years to grow stubble that long,’ Yuuri said a little wistfully. He swiped his thumb down Victor’s cheek, feeling the change from smooth skin to stubble.

‘You’re lucky.’

‘What if I wanted to have a moustache one day?’ Yuuri mused, only half focusing on what Victor said as he drifted his thumb back and forth. He jolted back to reality when Victor chuckled and he felt his jaw shift beneath his palm. Oh, god, he needed to move his hand. What was he _doing?_

‘It’s like a tiny strip of velcro beneath your nose.’ Victor moved Yuuri’s fingers to his upper lip. ‘See? Who would want to kiss that?’

Great, he was touching Victor’s face and thinking about kissing him. Yuuri wasn’t sure if his face could physically get any redder. ‘I think it’s fine,’ he mumbled.

‘Really? I’ll keep that in mind.’ Victor winked and Yuuri snatched his hand back.

 

_5 hours and 19 minutes_

With a wiggle, Yuuri turned sideways in his seat and tried to position himself so that his elbows wouldn’t club either Victor or Yuri in the face. He pulled the hem of his jumper up and tried to shuffle carefully out of it. It was doomed to failure from the start. Everything tangled and twisted and Yuuri was left with his arms pinned above his head, his glasses crushed into his forehead, his t-shirt tucked up, and probably half of his bare chest exposed. Thinking fast and starting to sweat, Yuuri gave the hem another desperate yank and yelped as it tugged on his ear.

‘Victor.’ Yuuri heard Yuri say in a weary sort of voice.

‘Um-’ Yuuri hurriedly tried to pull his arms down before Victor looked around to an eyeful of his unimpressive bare chest _thanks Yuri?_ His frantic wriggle was stopped by hands on his elbows and a soft laugh.

‘You know you could have just asked for help.’ Victor’s voice was amused and soft and far too close. Yuuri went still as Victor’s hands traced two slow lines down his chest. Yes, he did tug down his t-shirt for him, but all Yuuri could focus on was the brush of Victor’s knuckles against his bare skin. Was that much touching necessary? Did Victor really need to slip his palm up the front of his throat just to pull the jumper over his chin? Or was he just reading too much into it? Victor was being polite and he was simply seeing what wasn’t there.

Freed from smothering fabric, Yuuri stared through lopsided glasses into Victor’s face. He was very close and very attractive and Yuuri couldn’t attribute all of his flush to being trapped in a sweater.

‘Your glasses are crooked.’ Victor reached out and gently straightened them.

 

_5 hours and 23 minutes_

Yuuri couldn’t help but notice that Victor hadn’t put the armrest back down.

 

_6 hours and 48 minutes_

The lights had long been fully dimmed and the cabin was dark, people tucked beneath blankets and sleeping in silence. The constant background drone of the plane and the dark, still cabin had Yuuri’s eyes drifting shut. He felt heavy and warm, on the verge of sleep.

‘Can I ask you something?’

Yuri blinked and tugged his blanket down a little, exposing his face. Victor wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring down with a blank expression at his outstretched feet.

‘Of course,’ his voice was rough with sleep.

‘Have you ever felt that feeling,’ Victor began slowly, picking at the stitching on the seat in front, ‘that even when you’re surrounded by people, and everyone knows your name, you’re completely alone? It’s a strange feeling. Like no one truly cares what you think or feel, they only want to see what they expect of you.’ He fell silent, then dropped his hand from the seat. ‘Sorry. You’re wanting to sleep-’

‘I don’t have a huge fan following, and I rarely have an entire stadium of people knowing my name, but yes, I know something of that feeling.’ Yuuri shifted upright in his seat and felt Victor’s eyes follow him curiously. It was easier to feel bold in the dark. ‘In my case though I have my own cripplingly awkward personality to thank. I imagine your situation is a little different.’

Victor breathed a chuckle and dipped his head, Yuuri watched as his hair slid down in a wave of silver and black shadow. ‘Yuri told you that I skate, did he? For something I love, it hasn’t brought as much happiness as I thought it would. At least not recently.’

They sat in silence together, the aeroplane humming in the background. Yuuri fought the urge to reach out and gently run his fingers through Victor’s hair, which would be wildly inappropriate and all kinds of creepy. Eventually Victor lifted his head and gazed quietly at Yuuri.

‘And I don’t think you’re cripplingly awkward, Yuuri, I think you’re quiet and you’re kind.’

Yuuri was glad for the dark cabin that hid his red face. ‘I’d prefer to be like you.’

‘Like me?’

‘Ah - you’re- I mean how you spoke with me, you were friendly. I’d like to be that confident talking to people,’ Yuuri backtracked hastily. He had meant the way Victor was on the rink and interviews, his easy charm and confidence, the way he would laugh and always say the right thing. But he had forgotten, these weren’t things he was supposed to know.

‘Better to be quiet and make genuine friends.’

‘Unless you’re too quiet to make many friends.’

‘Well,’ Victor tipped his head against the head rest and gazed openly at Yuuri, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, ‘I think you’re quite charming.’

Was he -? Was he being flirted with? His heart in his throat, Yuuri stared at Victor with absolutely no idea how to react. Victor’s smile deepened for a moment and then he slowly rolled his head away, facing forward once again.

‘Perhaps I should let you sleep,’ Victor said.

‘No,’ Yuuri said quickly. ‘I mean, unless you’re tired.’

Victor shifted comfortably and stretched his legs out, lightly brushing his foot against Yuuri’s ankle. He didn’t say anything about it and Yuuri kept perfectly still, hyper aware of every point their legs touched. ‘Perhaps then you could tell me something about yourself. Given I am spending the next nine or so hours at your side.’

Yuuri looked at him in silence before replying. ‘You want to be distracted, don’t you?’

Victor’s eyes snapped to Yuuri’s, surprised, and then his expression softened into something unreadable. ‘How astute.’

Still feeling blurred at the edges and heavy pull of sleep, Yuuri didn’t reply. He untucked the edge of his blanket and dropped it over Victor’s legs. ‘It feels colder with the lights down, don’t you think?’

Victor remained silent, watching Yuuri’s movements instead. Yuuri relaxed back and pretended he couldn’t feel Victor’s eyes on him. Eventually Victor followed Yuuri’s gaze up to the roof of the cabin. The roof was dimmed to a midnight blue and tiny soft lights glowed all along the ceiling like a galaxy of stars.

‘It’s like star gazing,’ Yuuri said quietly. If he leaned back, if he relaxed, it was almost possible to imagine he was staring up into the night sky, that the little lights were distant stars. He turned his head and was surprised to find Victor looking at him and not the roof. Victor’s expression was soft and Yuuri didn’t quite know what to do about that. He tried a smile in return and Victor just stared quietly a moment longer, then he settled back into his seat with their shoulders almost touching.

‘What do you think that one is?’ Victor pointed up at one of the pin-prick lights on the ceiling. The backs of his fingers brushed Yuuri’s wrist beneath the blanket.

‘Aquarius, definitely,’ Yuuri said confidently, grinning in the dark as Victor snickered beside him. He told himself he could be brave. He carefully twitched his index finger and pushed back against Victor’s hand. Victor fell silent and under the blanket he laid his hand flat, both a question and an invitation. Yuuri slid his hand into Victor’s and gently pressed their palms together, his breath catching as Victor curled his fingers up through his. For the second time that day Yuuri could feel the press of Victor’s fingertips to the back of his hand, a firm pressure just below his knuckles. He was holding hands with Victor.

‘And that one?’ Victor’s voice was quieter and closer.

‘The Fish.’ Yuuri shifted to let their shoulders brush together.

‘Ah, The Fish. A well known constellation.’

‘Please don’t question my astrological knowledge.’

Victor chuckled, a warm, intimate sound so close to Yuuri’s ear. ‘Sorry, sorry. Forgive my impertinence.’

The seat creaked as Yuuri moved and tilted his head towards Victor, resting his forehead against Victor’s. He felt soft hair against his skin and the surprised stutter of breath over his cheek. Then Victor sighed and shifted closer in a way that felt very deliberate. He pressed his nose to Yuuri’s cheek and breathed deeply again. ‘You know,’ Victor murmured and fingertips trailed Yuuri’s jaw, ‘I would kiss you,’ up over his cheekbone, ‘right now,’ down over the corner of his mouth, ‘if you wanted.’

He did want and Victor was gorgeous and his thumb was drawing a slow pattern beneath his lower lip and Yuuri kissed him.

Victor responded immediately with a stifled moan and slid his hand into Yuuri’s hair, gripping and holding him close. His mouth was warm and he kissed with a slow, firm intensity. Yuuri tilted his head and let the pressure of Victor’s hand in his hair guide him. Beneath the blanket Victor clutched their hands tighter. Yuuri gripped hard, an anchor as Victor’s mouth moved against his own, open and gently insistent. He could hardly focus. His heart pounded in his ears and everything narrowed to the feel of Victor’s hands and mouth. He was being _kissed._ Victor’s hold shifted in his hair and urged him forward, kissing him deeply. He caught Yuuri’s bottom lip between his and tugged slowly. Yuuri’s answering groan was embarrassingly loud.

He felt rather than saw Victor’s intimate little smile as he drew back. Gazing at him from an inch away, Victor’s eyes were dark and lips wet. Yuuri felt stunned.

‘Well,’ Victor said simply, keeping that little smile.

‘You were flirting with me, weren’t you?’ Yuuri asked, dazed.

‘Yes, thank you for noticing. I was trying very hard.’

He couldn’t help it, he had to laugh, a stuttering hysterical sort of laugh. It was either that or go mad. He’d just kissed Victor Nikiforov. Been kissed by Victor Nikiforov. Quite thoroughly kissed.

He’d never kissed anyone before.

Without any sense of hesitation and awkwardness, Victor settled down comfortably beside Yuuri, giving their hands a brief squeeze. ‘I think I’ll sleep well now,’ he murmured, eyes already closed. ‘Feel free to wake me with a kiss. I’d like to do that again.’

Head spinning, Yuuri stared down at Victor, who was firmly settled against his shoulder. Who was going to sleep. Yuuri transferred his wide-eyed stare forward and felt like he was fraying at the edges. He had no illusions that he was anything but Victor’s distraction. You don’t kiss a stranger on the plane after seven hours with an expectation of anything else. It was nothing. Even in Yuuri’s dazed mind he could process that thought. This meant nothing. In eight hours they would land for the stopover and that would be the last of Victor.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_11 hours and 37 minutes_

Yuuri woke up with rose-tinted sunlight streaming through the cabin, the thin, lazy light of early dawn. People were beginning to stir around the cabin and he could heard the occasional murmured conversation. Victor was a warm, solid weight on his shoulder. His head had slumped down, his cheek against Yuuri’s collarbone and hair soft against his neck. Their hands were still loosely tangled under the pile of blankets. Yuuri’s heart ached. He’d never felt so alone, realising what he could have if he was only a little braver, a little better. He could wake up to this every morning, a partner asleep at his side. Instead he was travelling alone and someone was flirting with him to pass the time.

‘I think I’ve dribbled on you,’ Victor mumbled into his neck. Yuuri felt him shift and the warmth of his cheek disappeared. ‘Yep, sorry, that’s drool.’

‘Gross,’ Yuuri flashed a smile. Victor made it so easy to smile. His answering grin was pure sleepy laziness. Watching Victor stretch and stifle a yawn, Yuuri wondered what came next in this - this _thing_ they were doing. Was it over now? What had the point even been, had Victor flirted with him just to amuse himself? Victor’s hair brushed Yuuri’s cheek as he shifted and Yuuri told himself to stop over-thinking. What did it matter why Victor had noticed him? He could enjoy it without caring and without any attachment. He could be casual.

Victor used the sleeve of his hoodie to pat Yuuri’s neck dry.

Well, he’d never actually dated anyone and he had no experience in any sort of casual fling. But he was sure he could do it.

‘Ah, as you can see,’ Victor leaned back as the steward passed Yuuri’s tray across, ‘I have organised breakfast for you. Isn’t that romantic?’

‘Just me and the four hundred other passengers?’

Victor whipped the lid off his meal with a flourish. ‘Pure coincidence that they’re getting breakfast now too. Do you want my orange juice? I’m not a fan.’

Yuuri received both the juice and a teasing touch to his wrist, Victor slid his fingers over the back of his hand and stroked up the inside of his wrist. Acting on impulse, Yuuri caught his fingers and curled their palms together. Victor winked at him.

Beside him, Yuri was starting to stir, currently still slumped down with his back propped against Yakov’s shoulder. Yakov appeared to be slowly emerging from whatever drug-induced coma he had put himself into.

‘Morning,’ Victor said brightly. He took a large bite of croissant, apparently perfectly happy to eat left-handed and leave his hand in Yuuri’s. ‘Sleep well?’

‘How,’ Yakov cleared his throat a few times, ‘how long?

‘Three or so hours to Dubai.’

Yakov merely grunted and heaved himself upright in the chair, ruffling Yuri’s hair as he moved. Yuuri only half listened as the three of them talked, distracted by the slow swipe of Victor’s thumb across his palm.

‘Did I miss anything, boys?’ Yuuri tuned in to hear Yakov ask.

Victor’s head snapped up with a wicked grin in place. ‘ _Well-_ _’_

‘ _Shut the fuck up, Victor!_ _’_

_‘_ -got himself locked-’

‘You’re _such an ars-_ _’_

‘- _forty_ minutes-’

Yakov just watched them both with a mildly long-suffering expression. He looked down and continued buttering his croissant as they talked over each other. Over the past twelve or so hours Yuuri had been well exposed to the Nikiforov-Plisetsky squabble and its usual trajectory, he too ate his yoghurt and ignored the insults flying over his head. Yakov shot Yuuri a side-long glance under Yuri’s waving arm and rolled his eyes heaven-wards.

‘-and Victor spend the whole time hitting on Yuuri,’ Yuri declared.

‘Poor Yuuri.’

‘He noticed after about seven hours,’ Victor said around a mouthful of croissant, just a touch defensively.

‘Can’t have been doing a very good job,’ Yakov noted.

Cheeks burning, Yuuri stared straight ahead and chewed his breakfast. As if he needed any more confirmation that this was a game for Victor.

‘Well, that’s one way to pass the time.’ And apparently having said all he needed to say, Yakov shuffled his headphones on and settled in to finish breakfast with Lethal Weapon.

Victor nudged their knees together and tilted his head, making an effort to swallow his croissant before speaking. ‘You really didn’t notice, did you? I really wasn’t subtle.’

Never had Yuuri been so interested in scooping every last bit of yoghurt out, looking resolutely down. ‘Not really my area,’ he muttered.

‘I thought perhaps you weren’t interested, but-’ Victor deliberately trailed off with a very knowing grin.

Yuuri gave a short burst of laughter despite himself. ‘Oh, but you’re too handsome for that?’

‘Well-’ Victor shrugged and lowered his lashes, then immediately grinned. ‘No, well maybe, but I meant I saw your face a few times and you seemed…quite interested.’

It was easier to remain silent and let his bright red face do the talking.

‘Lucky for you, you might have had to watch movies during the flight otherwise,’ Yuuri finally found his voice.

‘How boring. This was far better.’

Because of course, Victor must flirt with many people. As Yakov said, it was a way to pass the time.

‘And having achieved your goal of catching my attention, what will you do for the next three hours?’

‘I’m certainly not going to start watching movies now. I will finish breakfast and then read, using your shoulder as a cushion. Unless you want to kiss me again?’

 

_12 hours and 02 minutes_

‘Is this uncomfortable?’

‘A little,’ Yuuri admitted and shifted around the armrest in his back.

‘Shame,’ Victor said lightly and made no effort to move.

For a long moment Yuuri sat there, frozen in uncertainty. He couldn’t just shove _Victor_. True to his word, Victor had slumped against Yuuri, pulled out a book, and proceeded to read without any hint of awkwardness. He’d even reached behind and adjusted Yuuri’s arm and position for maximum comfort. Yuuri now found himself wedged in the corner of his own seat, half turned to the side with Victor’s back flush against his front.

Tentatively, he pushed Victor’s back. He told himself it would be better if Victor just moved away. Maybe they could hold hands a few more times, Victor would tease him a little, and then they would part in a few hours. Victor would forget the man he spent a couple of hours with on a flight and Yuuri would remember he had once kissed Victor Nikiforov. Nothing more.

But -

Yuuri shuffled a pillow behind his own back and then tugged Victor in against his chest again. Victor tipped his head back, his hair warm and soft beneath Yuuri’s chin, and grinned. There was definitely a lopsided tilt to his mouth when he smiled, it was a strange feeling, being close enough to another person to notice a thing like that. And an overwhelming feeling was that of Victor curled against his chest, solid in his arms and content to simply relax there.

‘You know, I’ve travelled first class enough times,’ Victor’s back hummed against Yuuri’s chest, he could as much feel his voice as hear it, ‘but I’ve never been quite this comfortable.’

‘This isn’t a service they offer in first class?’

He felt Victor laugh, felt the shake of his shoulders and shift in his breathing. He was caught between anxiety and a deep, aching longing. His chest hurt with it. He wanted Victor, or maybe he just wanted someone to hold like he now held Victor. He wanted someone to want him like he wanted this.

He should have left it at the kiss. He shouldn’t have even kissed him.

‘For the record, Yuuri, I’m not sure why you think you’re awkward. If I had met you in St Petersburg we’d have got coffee together and it would have been fun.’

‘But we won’t.’

‘No, I don’t suppose we will.’ There was a strange note in Victor’s voice.

One blanket was tangled around Victor’s legs and half draped on the floor, the other bunched beneath Yuuri’s thighs. With the armrest raised and Victor sprawled across Yuuri, there was no longer any divide between their seats. It was a lazy, comfortable scene. Victor’s body was heavy and warm and his clothes rumpled from sleep. The wrappers and empty containers from breakfast were still piled on the trays and the cabin still felt as though it drifted on the edge of wakefulness. Yuuri half-listened idly as the man in front murmured to his little son, quiet giggles occasionally breaking the hush.

‘Do you think I’m making the right decision?’

‘Hm?’ Yuuri blinked.

Victor let his book drop to his chest and dangled his arm to the floor. ‘Taking a break from skating. Quitting skating.’

It would be so easy, almost effortless to run his hand down Victor’s arm. Not that he should be thinking that after spending just twelve hours with someone g _et a grip._

‘I know you don’t know me,’ Victor took his silence for confusion. ‘But that’s half the appeal, isn’t it? I feel like I can trust you.’

‘I don’t know if I’m qualified to comment,’ Yuuri said with sixteen years detailed knowledge of Victor Nikiforov’s career.

Yuuri felt Victor shrug and he dragged his fingertip idly along the carpet. ‘I liked your perceptiveness earlier, before I fell asleep. And your honesty.’

‘It - it sounds like you’ve lost the reason you enjoyed skating. I doubt you’ll find it again if you just quit.’

‘See?’ Victor twisted in his arms and smiled from a devastating two inches away. ‘That’s why I asked you. I’m glad you’ve never heard of me, I couldn’t talk to you like this if you knew who I was.’

And like a deceitful, deceptive lying snake, Yuuri stared awkwardly back.

 

_12 hours and 18 minutes_

Victor’s laughter brought Yuuri out his doze. It was a chuckle, a quieter sound for him.

‘Mm?’ Yuuri rubbed his face and adjusted his glasses.

‘This bit.’ Victor held his book up with his finger marking a line. ‘Four lines down, read the tenant’s part.’

Yuuri blinked, waiting for his eyes to focus, and then blinked again. A slab of Cyrillic stared back at him. ‘I can’t-’

‘Ah!’ Victor clutched his book back with an embarrassed laugh. ‘I forgot. I’m sorry.’

Hearing _embarrassment_ in Victor’s voice was new, and oddly endearing. Yuuri found himself hastening to reassure him. ‘What does it say?’

Quietly, his back vibrating against Yuuri’s chest, Victor read the passage aloud. He read in Russian, pausing to explain in English, often correcting himself as he struggled for the best translation, eager to make Yuuri understand it was _funnier_ in Russian. Yuuri honestly couldn’t have cared less. Victor’s voice was warm and low and he drifted to the shape and sound of the words. Eyes closed, Yuuri was content to simply listen to the sound of Victor reading.

 

_12 hours and 27 minutes_

‘I’m bored.’ Yuri wrenched his headphones off.

‘That’s nice,’ Victor replied absently, flipping the page of his book. Somehow Yuuri’s hand had found its way to Victor’s hip and now rested there as he drifted on the edge of sleep.

‘My legs are cramping and this fucking seat is too small and I’m _bored._ _’_

‘Hi Bored, I’m-’

 

_12 hours and 36 minutes_

Bored as he was, it was another ten minutes before Yuri could bring himself to speak to Victor again.

‘Cards?’ Even then the question was aimed more at Yuuri than Victor.

On the one hand that would mean losing the warm press of Victor’s body against his chest, but on the other it would mean a greater degree of sanity and the ability to focus on something other than Victor’s hair touching his chin. As they both shuffled upright in their own seats Yuuri tried to tell himself that he didn’t already miss the feel of Victor curled in his arms. Because that would be stupid and not something that someone in a casual, meaningless fling would feel.

Yuuri was too aware of Victor’s hands, his smile, the position of his legs, the way he leaned forward as Yuri dealt the cards. Yuuri knew all the ways they could touch, the places their arms and hands would brush together if he could just make himself move closer. If he could make himself braver. If he could tell himself that’s what Victor wanted too. But he couldn’t and it wasn’t so it hardly mattered. Yuuri scooped up his hand of cards.

 

_12 hours and 41 minutes_

‘ _How-_ _’_

_‘You’re a filthy fucking cheater, Nikiforov!’_

‘You two are definitely not as good as you think,’ Victor said happily. ‘Another round? I think I’ll win again.’

Yuri was already slapping the cards back down on the tray table. It was apparent that none of them reacted well to being beaten. And Victor was unable to refrain from projecting a smug air of confident self-assurance. The furious glint in Yuri’s eyes was only building with every bright exclamation from Victor and Yuuri was desperately trying to pretend he could lose with more grace. At this rate they’d still be playing cards as the plane touched down in Dubai.

 

_12 hours and 54 minutes_

It ended thirteen minutes later when Yuri attempted to flip the tray table.

 

_12 hours and 58 minutes_

Face burning, Yuuri hurried down the aisle.

Victor looked up as he stumbled to a halt beside their row. Hand braced on the seat in front, he made to stand up and let Yuuri past, then he stopped. His expression flashed between curiosity, amusement, something a little more wicked and a little more teasing. ‘You look like the end of a story. What happened?’

‘Nothing,’ Yuuri muttered and tried to push past.

Victor stretched his legs out and blocked the gap.

‘I-’ Yuuri looked over his shoulder and pushed in closer, ‘I felt up a man. Accidentally.’

Victor looked at him in incredulous silence for a moment then burst into laughter. He withdrew his legs and Yuuri shove past. ‘ _How_?’

Yuuri hunkered down in his seat. ‘I went to the wrong seat.’ Victor’s delighted laughter wasn’t helping. Sinking down further, Yuuri hid his face behind the seat in front.

‘And who, might I ask,’ Victor’s eyes, crinkled at the corners, said he already knew the answer, ‘where you actually intending to grope?’

‘I was not intending to grope anyone,’ Yuuri said with as much dignity as he could. ‘But the man had blond hair-’

‘And you thought it was me and you’d get a bit of a feel as you stepped in?’

‘No!’ Yuuri blushed furiously as Victor burst into laughter again. ‘I just - I was going to touch your shoulder and ask you to move and I sort of touched your neck a bit too only it wasn’t you.’

‘Do you want to touch my neck now?’

‘No!’ Yuuri ignored Victor’s laughter. He pulled out his phone and pointedly refused to look sideways, even as he fought a smile. It was a battle he lost.

 

_13 hours and 01 minute_

‘Uno.’ Yuri smacked the pack down on the table. ‘We’re playing Uno.’

‘Excellent! I’m very good at Uno,’ Victor declared. A muscle twitched along Yuri’s jaw.

It was hard enough concentrating when Victor played cards like a shark, let alone when he crowded in close, his right leg tucked up and pressed to Yuuri’s thigh. He had turned in his seat to face the table, left leg still on the ground and right bent at the knee up on the seat. Victor was no fool. Yuuri strongly suspected the casual hand that occasionally stroked his side was an act of seductive sabotage.

When the hand returned again Yuuri caught it firmly by the wrist and deposited it back in Victor’s lap. Yuri snickered. Victor looked mildly put out.

‘Not as smooth as you like to think, Nikiforov.’

Ignoring Yuri, Victor shifted in the seat and shuffled forward. ‘Yuuri,’ Victor cleared his throat and gently laid his hand on Yuuri’s leg, leaning in closer, ‘we’ve had fun together, haven’t we?’ Yuri made a noise like a sick cat  and Victor gazed steadily at Yuuri with wide, soft eyes. ‘You have only three cards left, you wouldn’t use them against me, would you?’ His cheek dimpled with suppressed laughter.

‘Betray me and I will fuck you up,’ Yuri declared.

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s leg and smiled warmly. Staring into inviting blue eyes, Yuuri slowly laid down his skip card. Yuri exploded and Victor slammed his final card down with a triumphant yell and snatched his hand off Yuuri’s leg. ‘ _Ha!_ _’_

Yuri looked at Yuuri in utter disgust. ‘You-’

‘You didn’t say Uno,’ Yuuri said.

There was a split second of silence as Victor looked up with complete surprise on his face and Yuri’s expression morphed into incredulous delight.

‘ _Ooo-_ _’_

_‘_ You _played_ me,’ Victor said with a mix of disbelief and appreciation. ‘You played _me_.’

_‘_ You are definitely not as charming as you think,’ Yuuri repeated his words back with a smile.

Victor burst into laughter, a messy spontaneous laugh that spilled out with a grin. He grabbed the back of Yuuri’s head and kissed him. A brief enthusiastic kiss, teeth clacking as Victor still grinned. Opening his eyes, Victor’s fingers still in his hair, Yuuri stared dazed into Victor’s blue eyes at close range.

Victor grinned back at him. ‘You sure?’

No, of course not, Victor was every bit as charming as he thought with his hair tumbling down his forehead, eyes bright and teasing. Yuuri tried to shrug casually while his heart pounded in his ears.

‘ _We won_.’ This looked to be a high that Yuri would ride for some time.

‘First time in eleven months, isn’t it?’ Victor’s hand slipped from Yuuri’s neck and Yuuri swayed a little closer to him.

‘Fuck you.’ But even then there wasn’t much feeling behind it and his expression was the closest to happiness that Yuuri had seen.

 

_13 hours and 07 minutes_

He could tell Victor wanted to say something. The seat creaked as he shifted with a restraint that was quite unlike Victor. Feeling eyes on him, Yuuri continued looking down at his phone. Finally -

‘So have you had a slump in ballet before?’

Yuuri almost groaned. This was dangerous territory with too many opportunities to slip and say something he shouldn’t. Clicking off his phone, Yuuri stared at his reflection in the black screen for a moment before steeling himself and looking up. ‘I think you skate at a very different level to me. I’m not sure I want to keep going anymore, but my concerns are a bit more mundane than yours.’ He reluctantly kept explaining when Victor tilted his head curiously. ‘If I’ve understood correctly, you’re stopping because you’re lacking in inspiration and motivation, I’m stopping because I’m lacking in ability.’

To his surprise, Victor didn’t immediately scoff at that. ‘Really?’ He asked simply.

‘I’m good, I’m really good,’ Yuuri said honestly and Victor smiled, ‘but I’m not _good enough_. I don’t think I can ever get there.’

‘Not on your own, no. When I hear someone with talent and dedication say they can’t progress, I start looking at who’s coaching them. And I don’t mean anything against your instructor but it doesn’t sound like they’re the right fit for you anymore. Once you get to a certain level it’s not just a question of technical ability, your coach has to be able to bring that other _something_ out in you.’

It was the most serious and earnest that Yuuri had seen Victor this flight.

‘That’s if you’re as good as you say,’ Victor added. Yuuri almost smiled, that was more Victor.

‘Does your coach do that?’ Yuuri asked.

Victor pointed across at where Yakov was methodically palming peanuts into his mouth. ‘That’s my coach.’

Yuuri had to arrange his expression into surprise, as if this was news to him. ‘And he’s the right fit for you?’

They watched as Yakov absently picked a peanut off his jacket and ate it. ‘More or less.’ Victor grinned then sobered. ‘But inspiration is a personal thing I guess, if I can’t find it for myself then there’s no point anymore. What keeps you dancing?’

‘As I said before, I’m not as good as you. My motivation is less - personal. I just want to be as good as another s -  dancer.’

Victor smiled. ‘You want to beat them?’

Yuuri laughed, both at the thought of beating Victor and the whole absurdity of this situation. He was saying this to Victor’s face, _Victor._ ‘No, I’d settle for just being as good. That’s more realistic.’

‘Well, I want to surprise people, keep people wondering what I’ll do. It’s what I’ve always done. But I don’t know what to do anymore, I’m too - too technical? I can do everything and I can do it correctly and it’s _boring_. You’re a dancer, you understand that don’t you?’

Yuuri, with a mere thirty percent hit rate for landing quads, just nodded.

‘Maybe I’ve just been skating for too long? It’s been more than two decades. Maybe I’ve done everything I can.’

Yuuri got the sense Victor was letting this spill out for the first time. He didn’t seem to need an answer and simply wanted someone to listen as he sounded out his thoughts. Yuuri listened as Victor continued, talking around his doubts and start as a child, occasionally looking at Yuuri for agreement.

‘-and the stress aged you, turned your hair grey,’ Yuri cut in after a period of eavesdropping.

‘It’s not _grey,_ _’_ Victor immediately broke off from his story to respond.

‘At least it’s not down to your butt anymore, _бабушка_.’

Yuuri felt obliged to mount a defence of Victor’s past long hair, object of his childhood envy and admiration. ‘I thought it looked good.’

Victor laughed. ‘Did Yuri show you?’

He wasn’t supposed to know that. They were 35,000ft in the air, he couldn’t even say he’d googled.

‘I-’ Yuuri found himself staring desperately at Yuri, who stared back with an inscrutable expression.

‘Yep,’ Yuri said finally in a bored tone. ‘You were an ugly kid.’

Yuuri started breathing again.

‘Well,’ Victor stretched and looped his ankle over Yuuri’s, ‘Yuuri thinks I was cute.’

Having fulfilled his unpleasantness quota for the hour, Yuri snorted and turned away. Victor didn’t speak any further over his skating but he reached across and squeezed Yuuri’s hand in silent thanks. Yuuri felt quite unreasonably flat. He wouldn’t have any further conversations with Victor like this. They weren’t friends and Victor had no real interest in him, not as a quick distraction and certainly not as an easily forgotten failed skater.

It was a belated realisation and utterly pointless at this time, but Yuuri reflected that he maybe had gone and got far too attached.

 

_14 hours and 11 minutes_

Yuuri shuffled onto his side and froze. Yuri was staring intently at him from five inches away. His expression could best be described as _searching_. Yuuri hurriedly rolled back the other way.

‘You can snooze on me, if you want,’ Victor offered casually, only glancing briefly away from his book.

Neither his heart or his sanity was likely to survive that. Yuuri awkwardly declined and settled even more awkwardly against the edge of the headrest, trying to appear comfortable in a hard chair and zero degree recline. Eyes closed and glasses jammed crooked, he willed himself to sleep.

‘You’re not comfortable. Lay on me.’

It wasn’t an offer, it was a hand on Yuuri’s upper-arm and a firm tug sideways. His cheek hit Victor’s shoulder and he froze. He laid there, rigid, as Victor made a satisfied noise and shifted.

The seat had been fine. The seat didn’t smell like lazy, sleepy warmth, the faintest trace of cologne mixed with sweat and fabric softener. But Victor was all of those things and Yuuri didn’t know what to do.

‘Better?’

Emotionally or physically? Yuuri gave up and just relaxed into Victor’s side. Why was he bothering to fight this? Just an hour to Dubai, and then the next time he saw Victor it would be on a tv screen. He shuffled in a little closer and tucked his forehead against Victor’s neck.

‘Oh,’ Victor said quietly, almost surprised. ‘You-’

Whatever he’d intended to say next never came. Just the lightest touch of fingers to Yuuri’s cheek instead. In a surprisingly intimate gesture, Victor gently brushed the hair from Yuuri’s temple.

 

_14 hours and 27 minutes_

They were collecting headphones. The flight attendants were walking down the aisle looping headphones around their arms. On the other side blankets were being bundled and dropped into large garbage bags. Yuuri watched with a strange feeling as his blanket was dumped into the bag. That was the blanket he had draped across Victor, held his hand beneath it. Then he just felt stupid because it was a _blanket._ Beside him, Victor was absorbed entirely in his book and merely handed his own blanket over with a distracted thanks.

‘You boys have everything organised?’ Yakov asked. Yuuri noted he was included in that. ‘Passports? Phones?’

Yuuri bent down to drag his bag out from under the seat. This really was it. He realised he didn’t even know where Victor was flying to next, he could be connecting to anywhere from Dubai. He probably wouldn’t even have the same stopover time.

‘Boarding passes?’ Yuri asked in an unexpected display of caring.

His passport bitten between his teeth, Yuuri waved his boarding pass in the air and searched through his bag with his other hand. Yuri grabbed Yuuri’s wrist with a horribly suspicious expression, he stared at his boarding passes and then back up at Yuuri’s face. Yuuri watched with a flat kind of horror as Yuri’s expression turned triumphant. Unexpectedly caring indeed.

‘It’s spelled differently,’ Victor said, looking up at them. ‘Your names. Japanese versus Russian translation to English, right?’

‘Yes,’ Yuuri said immediately. ‘Yes, that’s what we were looking at.’

‘Yes,’ Yuri echoed, eyes not leaving Yuuri’s face.

Well, there it was. He knew. And all Yuuri could feel was a vague, distant sense of horror, buried beneath resignation. Either way, whether Yuri exposed him or not, he wouldn’t see Victor again. He tried to tell himself that yes, _obviously,_ there was a pretty big difference between Victor forgetting their strange flirting thing and remembering him as a lying creep. And that rationally he’d much rather be forgotten and the fact that Yuri knew was an unmitigated disaster just waiting to happen and his idol of sixteen years was going to hate him, did he really want that? But somehow his mind, and maybe his heart, remained stuck. Somehow nothing mattered as much as never seeing Victor again.

He shouldn’t, but Yuuri ignored Yuri. He tucked his boarding pass in his pocket and nudged Victor’s arm. ‘Do you mind if I-’

Victor was already slinging his arm around Yuuri and tugging him down against his shoulder before he finished.

 

_14 hours and 59 minutes_

Yuuri held Victor’s hand as the plane landed, their fingers tangled loosely together. The plane shuddered as the wheels touched down and Victor squeezed tightly, just for a moment.

 

_15 hours and 11 minutes_

It was with mixed feelings that Yuuri unclipped his seatbelt. His hands felt heavy and slow, a pressing sense of reluctant and regret settling over him. The past fifteen hours had been something from a dream. An improbable mix of strange, awkward, embarrassing, and perfect moments. The noise level in the plane rose as people moved about the cabin, rustling through bags and dragging clattering luggage down from the lockers, families calling out to each other and children raising their voices after hours of shushed quiet. Yuuri let the noise buzz over his head as he bent down to organise his bag. The sound of his own heartbeat and breathing was loud in his ears. He hadn’t wanted this flight to end.

But they were standing up now.

This would be the last of the fun, attractive, well-meaning man that he had spent the last fifteen hours with. He found himself thinking of Victor’s crooked smile, the big untamed smile that crinkled in the corners of his eyes and wrinkled his nose, his perfectly messy and genuine smile. Who would see that grin now? Not that he had any right to know or proper reason to care. It was just he’d never seen that smile before, not in any interview or poster or performance.

‘Why aren’t we fucking _moving?_ _’_ Yuri thumped into Yuuri’s back. He used his bag as a battering ram and shoved forward again.

For all Yuri’s loud anger, there wasn’t much force in his shove. Yuuri was instead just pushed against Victor’s back and honestly couldn’t bring himself to care much about moving. Not that he could even if he wanted to. The aisle was at a standstill with a long line of people stretching back from the doors, the usual process for disembarking a flight. Most people were simply standing with an acceptable degree of tired patience.

Yuri’s bag hit Yuuri’s back again.

‘I _know_.’ Was what Yuuri heard hissed by his ear, because of course all this depressing moment needed was blackmail by an angry Russian teenager.

Yuuri left his cheek pressed to Victor’s shoulder-blades and exhaled slowly. If Yuri was going to choose this moment to exact his revenge or deliver justice or whatever it was he had planned, then it was going to take place with Yuuri leaning against Victor Nikiforov and holding onto the last moments of this dream.

‘Know what?’Victor asked over his shoulder.

For once Yuuri wished that Victor was as vague and scattered as he sometimes acted. Unfortunately not many things seemed to pass Victor by.

‘Yuuri has something to tell you.’

Victor’s back shifted beneath Yuuri’s cheek. ‘Oh?’

‘I wish this flight wasn’t ending,’ Yuuri blurted out, before Victor could turn around and before Yuri could respond.

Voices still rose and fell around them, but Yuuri could almost feel the quiet silence that settled between just the three of them.

‘I’ve never regretted leaving a plane before,’ was all Victor said. Just those soft few words.

Surprisingly, Yuri remained silent.

He remained silent as the queue slowly shuffled forward, as the attendants nodded their polite goodbyes, as they moved in a slow huddle up the aerobridge. It was only as they stepped across into the terminal that he bumped Yuuri’s shoulder and muttered-

‘Katsuki.’

Not that it mattered. His time left with Victor could now be measured in minutes.

 

_3 hours and 43 minutes until take-off_

To his surprise, Victor didn’t immediately part ways with him. Yakov set off for the bathroom with the set expression and purposeful walk of a man who both hates aeroplane toilets and has spent many hours in an aeroplane. And after a furious exchange of muttered Russian, Yuri departed too, hitching his backpack up and shooting Victor one last withering glance. Unsure, Yuuri was left standing in awkward silence.

Eventually Victor cleared his throat. ‘Let’s get something to eat.’

‘Me?’ Yuuri asked. Victor still wanted to stay with him?

‘I was thinking _with_ you, but-’

‘No, okay, sure. Definitely.’

Somehow Victor’s interest in him felt more _real_ now. They were standing together in the huge echoing terminal, the ceiling metres and metres above with the sunlight streaming in and crowds of people milling amongst the shops. This wasn’t a small, confined cabin. Victor wasn’t assigned to the seat beside him and the quiet, close bubble of shared space was gone. They were together by choice now and Yuuri didn’t know how he felt about that.

Actually, he did know how he felt and it was depressing as hell. His feelings refused to detach themselves from his actions. Every part of Yuuri Katsuki was captivated by Victor Nikiforov. He couldn’t go on with this pretend closeness and pretend it would end the moment he stepped on that next flight, neither his heart or his mind were going to let go that easily. To go on with this flirting wasn’t fair on himself and it wasn’t fair on Victor, who certainly hadn’t signed up to receive the over-attached feelings of a lonely Japanese man and who, unlike Yuuri, would have no trouble moving on from this.

No, this ended now.

 

_3 hours and 31 minutes until take-off_

Victor looked older in fluorescents of McDonald’s. Not older in the sense of aged, but taller, his shoulders broader. In the cramped cabin of the plane, Victor’s clothes rumpled, half buried beneath a blanket and sprawled in his seat, it was easier to miss his age and forget who he was. He was all of his twenty-eight years, competent and comfortably self-assured.

Properly, and with what felt like the first clear thought he’d had in fifteen hours, Yuuri questioned exactly what he’d thought he’d been doing.

Victor reached behind to rub the back of his neck and Yuuri stared at the muscles of his bare upper-arm. The sleeve of his t-shirt fitted tightly around his arm as he flexed. Unmistakably the result of intense training on the ice. This was a man, almost thirty, with an outstanding career and a proper grip on his life. Yuuri pushed his sundae away, his appetite suddenly gone.

_3 hours and 07 minutes until take-off_

Honestly it was probably inevitable and should have been expected, but it was still a shock when Yuri emerged from the shadows like Gollum and cornered Yuuri en-route to the toilet.

‘Yuuri Katsuki. Katsuki Yuuri of Japan.’

Yuuri closed his eyes.

‘You were horrible at the Grand Prix Final free skate. You flubbed everything.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Why?’ Yuri was circling him like a shark. ‘Your short program was good. Really good.’

Yuuri tried to dodge sideways and Yuri sped up to follow, cutting in front and walking backwards to stare him down. ‘My dog died.’

‘That sucks.’

‘Yep.’

‘Why haven’t you told Victor? You must have known who he was. He’ll probably wet himself in joy if he finds out you’re a figure skater too.’

Yuuri snorted and tugged his jacket in tighter. ‘No.’

‘Why not? He’s all over you and you’re into him, right?’

A group of travellers hurried past, rattling their luggage behind them and Yuuri sidestepped. He stopped to the side of the path and Yuri stood in front of him with his arms crossed and jaw set. ‘Victor,’ Yuuri glanced over his shoulder and drew closer to Yuri, dropping his voice, ‘is one of _the most_ decorated figure skaters and he’s won five consecutive GPF gold medals and as you said, I am horrible and I flubbed everything.’

Yuri shrugged. ‘Doubt he’d care. He’d probably whisk you away to a rink or something and train you with romantic music or some shit.’

Yuuri’s brain short-circuited at that point. He took a brief moment to imagine gliding across the ice in Victor’s arms. And then slammed back down to reality. ‘It’s only been fifteen hours and we’ve been sat next to each other on a plane,’ he said bluntly.  ‘He’s flirting because he’s bored and I’m interesting because I don’t say much and I go bright red when he touches me, which he does a lot. He probably thinks I’m being mysterious but actually I’m just awkward and anxious.’

Again, Yuri shrugged. ‘He’s sad and lonely and desperate.’

Great, so Victor had been flirting with him out of desperation? That just made everything better.

Leaning in, Yuri looked like he was in physical pain. ‘He _likes_ you.’ Saying that clearly took a toll on him.

‘It’s been _fifteen hours_ ,’ Yuuri felt that maybe wasn’t being made clear enough. ‘We were assigned seats together on a flight for only _fifteen hours._ You can’t like someone based on that.’

Slightly hypocritical perhaps, but he was aware of his over-attachment and his deep loneliness compounded with a sixteen-odd year admiration of Victor Nikiforov and that was his own personal issue to deal with, thank you. And it did not negate the impossibility of Victor or anyone else for that matter developing a true attachment in the space of one international flight.

‘So? You-’

‘He’s met me before, you know,’ Yuuri cut across quietly. ‘At the Grand Prix last year I skated in the finals with him. After the event he didn’t recognise me, not even right after I’d skated. Then at the airport yesterday he didn’t recognise me.’

‘He’s got a mind like a sieve,’ Yuri said dismissively. ‘He only remembers the stuff he wants to.’

Yuuri stared. Because obviously. That was his point. Yuri seemed to realise what he’d said and fell silent.

‘Why’d you even talk to him then?’ He asked after a pause. ‘He was kind of a dick.’

Yuuri searched for a way to say he was flattered? Victor was acknowledging him? Victor was stupidly good looking?

‘Ew,’ Yuri said softly, with feeling.

Apparently his expression had said it all then.

 

_2 hours and 58 minutes until take-off_

Yuuri came back from the bathroom to find Victor stealing his fries. He received a brilliant wide grin and not the faintest hint of shame.

‘You were gone a while,’ Victor said, pulling another fry from Yuuri’s packet. ‘I did what I had to to survive.’

‘I ran into Yuri.’ Yuuri sat down and batted Victor’s hand away. This was too real, too easy. Too much like a friendship. Only it wasn’t because it was all just a short blip. A little blip of companionship in a foreign airport for one day of a year. Yuuri wished that -

He drew a deep breath and pushed his chair away from the table. Victor looked at him, startled. ‘I should probably find my gate. I think it’s in a different terminal.’

Victor stood up too and Yuuri was again conscious that Victor was taller than him. ‘I never did ask, where are you connecting on to, if you don’t mind me asking?’

He did, but probably not for the reasons Victor was accounting for. He listened with a heavy weight in his stomach as Victor happily confirmed they were travelling on together. At the very least they wouldn’t be seated together - Victor looked at Yuuri’s boarding pass to check - that had been a fluke of incredible proportions.

‘So,’ Yuuri began awkwardly again, ‘I guess you’ll find Yakov and Yuri now?’

‘I - you’re going now?’

Yuuri shrugged. ‘I’ll probably get lost, I’ll need the time,’ he tried to joke but Victor’s expression didn’t change.

‘I thought - I mean, you should at least let me get you a drink or something, I was going to make up for eating your fries.’

Not knowing what to say, and not trusting himself to open his mouth, Yuuri just pulled Victor into a rough hug. Victor made a sound by his ear and pulled him in tight, gripping the back of neck. His fingers dug into Yuuri’s skin and he felt press of Victor’s mouth and nose against the side of his neck. It wasn’t an adequate hug to cover everything Yuuri had felt in the past day. His chest hurt with everything he desperately wanted to say. He clenched his fist in the back of Victor’s t-shirt, closed his eyes and buried his face in Victor’s shoulder. Just for a moment. Telling himself to stop being ridiculous, Yuuri pulled back. Victor caught his hand before it dropped to his side and murmured something in Russian.

Yuuri looked down at the joined hands. ‘What did you say?’

Victor shrugged and laughed, a slightly shaky sound. ‘Come see me in St Petersburg and I’ll tell you.’

‘Maybe one day.’

‘One day,’ Victor echoed. ‘Well, Yuuri,’ he forced a lighter note into his voice, ‘it has been an absolute pleasure. I wish you every possible success in your dancing. All flights after this are going to seem very flat by comparison.’

Yuuri wondered if he was the first person Victor had said that too, he doubted it. He also doubted Victor truly would remember him. But for now, at least, Victor did look genuinely regretful. Yuuri echoed similar sentiments. He was too conscious of Victor’s tight grip on his hand. Soon it was going to end.

‘I could give you my number?’ Victor offered, almost half-heartedly, Yuuri felt.

‘Probably not much point.’

‘No, I suppose you’re right.’

Acting on impulse, Yuuri stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to Victor’s mouth. Victor’s hand squeezed almost painfully hard and he opened his mouth beneath Yuuri’s, stealing a deep, fierce kiss in the brief seconds before Yuuri drew back. Victor’s eyes were still closed when Yuuri stepped away.

‘Goodbye, Victor,’ Yuuri said softly.

 

_Something around 2 hours, maybe 1, who cares_

Knees drawn up to his chest, Yuuri sat on a chair outside the gate and wallowed. He had the music in headphones up loud in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. What had he done? _Why_ had he ever thought this was something he could handle? The B gate was almost full of people waiting, as was the A gate area further down. That’s probably where Victor would be boarding from, the first class and business passengers boarding a different part of the plane. A few people had given Yuuri curious glances as he sat there, the embodiment of misery. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. It was an utterly ridiculous situation and yet, he still felt completely wretched. What an _idiot_ he’d been. Getting this attached to someone who didn’t even recognise his face. He could pretend to be interesting and funny and brave for a single flight, but that wasn’t really him. The real Yuuri was the one that panicked in a bathroom and skated a disaster of an event and hadn’t even kissed someone before. That was the Yuuri that Victor hadn’t cared enough about to remember. Who’d he thought he was fooling? Himself, more than anyone else probably.

Yuuri added anger at himself to the list of emotions he was currently feeling.

It was in state of anger, frustration, regret, anxiety and sadness that Yuuri boarded the plane. He spared a brief thought for the person who’d be sitting next to him for this leg. He hoped they wouldn’t want to talk, he felt capable only of yelling and crying. Possibly both at the same time.

Yuuri thumped down in his seat and closed his eyes. Seat 49D. Finally the aisle seat he’d wanted from the start. He squeezed his eyes closed a little tighter. Bleak internal humour was only getting him so far. He pressed his hand over his face and tried not to feel so stupid.

‘So it turns out, I don’t like goodbyes.’

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open. He dropped his hand and slowly forced his stare upwards. Into Victor’s grinning face. Of course.

‘You’re supposed to be in first class,’ Yuuri said dully.

‘It’s amazing how happy people are to swap their economy seat for a first class one.’

‘Oh.’

Something changed in Victor’s happy expression. ‘You’re not as happy to see me as I thought you’d be.’ It was almost a question.

Yuuri was all too aware that he smelled bad, his hair was both messy and greasy, and his clothes looked exactly like he’d spent the last eighteen hours sat in them. Combined with the painful disaster that was his heart, he felt entirely unable to handle this. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you again.’

‘And you’re not happy to be proven wrong?’ Victor cocked his head. ‘Strange.’

With a hard lump in his throat, Yuuri watched as Victor shoved his bag up into the overhead locker. He couldn’t do another eight hours. There was something hopeful in Victor’s expression when he looked down, he reached for Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri flinched away.

Now Victor truly looked confused. He still shuffled his way past Yuuri to his seat, dropping down beside him and shooting him a sidelong glance. ‘Everything okay?’

‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ Yuuri said in a moment of aching honesty that he immediately regretted.

‘Sit next to me?’

‘No, I-’

‘You’re a mystery, Yuuri. You notice my flirting, you respond in what I feel was a very positive manner, and then with eight hours left of this flight we must stop talking? I think I have missed something.’

‘Does it matter? As you said, there’s only eight hours left.’

Shrugging, Victor plugged his headphones into the jack. ‘It’ll bother me long after the eight hours if I don’t find out.’

‘No it won’t,’ Yuuri said firmly. Victor looked up curiously at the force in his voice. Flushing in a mix of frustration and shame, he stared out into the aisle.

‘And I say it will.’

‘You’ll return home and if you want quick, meaningless distractions you’ll find them easy enough. It’s been proven in the past that I am not a particularly memorable person.’

Victor abandoned any attempt to arrange his headphones and blankets and stared seriously at Yuuri instead. It was the most serious he had ever seen him. ‘What makes you say that?’

Yuuri flashed him a quick, regretful smile before staring back down at his feet. ‘You’re very good looking. And charming.’

‘No, why do you think you’re not mem-’ he broke off as the flight attendant stopped by their seats, offering a tray of hot towels. Yuuri seized one and pressed it to his face.

‘For reasons of my own, I think flirting with you was a mistake,’ Yuuri said into the hot towel while he still had the courage, ‘and I think it would be best if we parted ways.’

‘And I won’t argue you from that decision, but if you feel this strongly, why did you kiss me?’ Victor just sounded puzzled.

Yuuri closed his eyes. ‘I felt flattered,’ he confessed and felt utterly, completely stupid. ‘It was flattering to think you would be interested in me.’

Yuuri felt a soft, fleeting touch to his wrist. ‘You’re quite attractive, Yuuri,’ Victor said. ‘I promise I would notice you anywhere.’

‘That’s the boredom talking.’

With a frustrated noise, Victor settled back in his seat. ‘And I feel like now you’re just self-flagellating.’

‘It’s not you, it’s-’

‘No, of course,’ Victor said sarcastically, ‘you had such a fun time with me that you dread the prospect of spending more time in my presence.’

Never, not in a million years, would Yuuri have expected Victor to react like this. He seemed genuinely upset. Yuuri didn’t understand, it was only eight hours. Surely Victor could have just watched movies to pass the time? Did he really need someone else as a distraction?

_8 hours and 04 minutes until landing_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So as it turns out, I am incapable of updating any faster. I probably should have noted at the beginning that I would be slow to update, apologies! Unfortunately the combination of the commute, a 9-5, and fabbo work ‘busy season’ leaves little time outside of the weekend for life’s finer pursuits (fanfic). Why, you might ask, did I embark on a 20,000+ word fic in the middle of busy season then? Good question, I have no impulse control.
> 
> Thank you for the frankly gorgeous comments on this fic. I am honestly blown away. I am quite concerned that I won’t quite live up to the expectations I never anticipated having! Thank you all for making me, on many many occasions, silently dance in the bathroom at work while reading your comments. I’m not even kidding.

_7 hours and 37 minutes_

It was uncomfortable.

And that was a mild assessment of the situation. Yuuri found himself staring out across the aisle, pretending he couldn’t feel Victor’s gaze burning the side of his face. It was all so _pointless._ What good would come of telling Victor his reasons for withdrawing? Nothing. No good would come of it. He could either endure eight hours of Victor’s confusion or eight hours of excruciating awkwardness when Victor realised how he felt. It wasn’t a difficult decision.

The seatbelt sign switched off with a faint ping and gradually the sound of voices and conversation grew, people shifting and stretching in their seats, stepping into the aisles and clicking open the overhead lockers. Yuuri tried to resist the temptation to slide his gaze sideways, subtly glance at Victor, map the way his hair fell over his forehead and brushed the bridge of his nose, almost a little too long and a little too messy compared to his usual cut.

It was an afterthought to realise he had not in fact resisted temptation and had been staring at Victor for a solid few seconds. Probably with an embarrassing amount of longing on his face. Victor was slouched in his seat, elbows resting on both arm-rests and his phone held up. One leg was kicked out under the seat in front to complete the image of effortless, graceful boredom.

‘You’re looking at me,’ Victor noted. He swiped upwards on his phone with unnecessary force.

Yuuri couldn’t help tracing his eyes over Victor’s features, over the sharp line of his nose and the unhappy press of his lips. He looked away regretfully.

‘Didn’t say you had to stop,’ Victor added with a certain sharpness, eyes still fixed on his phone screen.

There wasn’t any reply Yuuri could give. Of course he didn’t want to look away, who would? But it was easier to stare out into the aisle. The plain blue carpet of the aisle floor didn’t leave him tangled in guilt and longing. He pretended not to hear the short, frustrated snort from beside him. What he really wanted right now was a drink. Maybe four. And what he didn’t want was to see a familiar pair of leopard print sneakers approaching down the aisle. There was only one person that thought leopard print was the final word in _cool_. Yuuri lifted his eyes and closed his mouth, cutting himself off with a heavy sigh. Yuri Plisetsky. Just what he needed, more Russian figure skaters crowding around his seat.

Yuuri raised his hand slightly in greeting and was completely ignored. Yuri stopped by Yuuri’s seat and waited in silence. No one said anything.

Yuri looked between them. ‘Okay, so you told him. This looks awkward as shit. You’re right, probably should have waited.’ That last part was directed at Yuuri. ‘Dick move though.’ That went to Victor.

Victor grabbed the seat in front and wrenched himself forward. _‘What?’_ He stared at Yuri, then back to Yuuri. ‘ _What_ was a dick move? So I did do something? I said something?’ He looked back at Yuri. ‘Will someone just tell me what I did?’

‘No, I didn’t tell him,’ Yuuri said flatly.

It took two seconds of silent staring at their faces for Yuri to decide this was not a discussion he wished to be part of. He turned abruptly and left.

‘Excuse me,’ Victor muttered and hastily pulled himself out of the row.

The last Yuuri saw was Yuri hurrying up the aisle, Victor close behind and accelerating fast.

 

_7 hours and 31 minutes to go_

Between Victor disappearing and returning with a frustrated expression, Yuuri had six glorious minutes to imagine every possible way Yuri could be spilling his secret. Right now he was probably telling Victor everything. Yuuri let out a slow, deliberate breath and tried not to squeeze his phone between his hands. His sweaty hands. Victor was probably laughing, he’d be angry, probably repulsed, feeling pity for the terrible skater with a ridiculous crush, trying to swap his seat away from -

‘Nothing,’ Victor said as he dropped down into his seat. ‘Whatever your reasons are, Yuri has kept them to himself.’

Seeing the confusion and hurt on Victor’s face, Yuuri couldn’t quite bring himself to feel relieved. He released his death grip on his phone and instead felt guilty.

 

_7 hours and 29 minutes_

‘Vodka, please,’ Victor said quite firmly.

Yuuri looked at the firm press of his lips. Seven and a half hours to go. He looked back at the flight attendant. ‘Yes. Vodka, please.’

 

_7 hours and 02 minutes_

Legs stretched out under the seat in front and slouched down, Victor stared down at his feet. His expression reminded Yuuri of the time Mari and Minako had commandeered the tv to watch Pride and Prejudice and Mr Darcy brooded in the corner of the room for six straight hours.

‘So,’ Victor said finally, speaking to his feet, ‘are we going to speak at all during this flight?’

‘No,’ Yuuri said with the bluntness of two little vodka bottles.

‘Is anyone going to tell me why, or shall I just assume this is irreparably my fault?’ And evidently vodka was bringing out a flair for the dramatic in Victor.

Running his hands through his hair, Yuuri noted, a little distantly, that his skin felt unpleasantly numb. Probably best not to have any more alcohol. He’d stop. After one more. ‘I could have avoided this.’

‘Avoided what?’

Yuuri remained silent and Victor thumped his head back against the seat in frustration.

‘My mysterious seatmate,’ Victor said with a biting, sarcastic sweep to his voice, ‘humour me. Tell me what I could have done to earn this reaction.’

Yuuri flagged down an attendant. He was going to need that final drink sooner than later. ‘Do you really need to have this conversation with someone you’ve known for less than a day?’ Victor fell silent. Yuuri finished speaking to the flight attendant and turned around to Victor. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘Make it five,’ Victor said wearily.

‘He’ll have one too,’ Yuuri confirmed to the flight attendant. His arms felt heavy and harder to control than usual. He rolled his head sideways to stare at Victor. ‘Most people would chalk this whole thing up to a weird plane encounter, right? Why do you care?’

Victor’s small, bitter smile was not what he expected. ‘Too much? I came on too strong?’ He groaned faintly and rubbed his hand over his face, slumping further in the seat. Letting his hand drop, he stared at the floor with a strange self-deprecating expression. ‘Is that it? Were you hinting for me to back off?’

‘No,’ Yuuri said heavily, ‘no, I wasn’t.’

Victor accepted another mini vodka bottle from the flight attendant, immediately taking a long drink while looking at Yuuri with a skeptical raised eyebrow. _Why_ did he have to be so attractive? Yuuri stared down at his drink and then downed half in one go. His head buzzed.

‘Vi-’

‘And then I sat next to you.’ Victor wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘God, you’re right, way too much. You should have j-’

‘I know who -’

‘No,’ Victor said firmly. He closed his eyes and shoved his hands through his hair, tipping his head backwards. Yuuri stared longingly at his collarbone. ‘I’m going to be honest. Can I be honest?’

Well it was about time one of them was. His confession hovering on the tip of his tongue, Yuuri just nodded wordlessly.

‘I’m confused, Yuuri.’ Victor let his hands drop, perhaps a shade dramatically, but there was a strange cast to his face. His left hand fell palm-up on their shared arm rest and Yuuri found himself fighting the urge to just reach out and take it. ‘We had such fun the last few hours, didn’t we? Then something changed. You tell me my attention wasn’t unwelcome and it wasn’t too much?’ He caught Yuuri’s eye as if to check, his expression a little anxious. It was a strange expression on him. ‘And you’re right that I shouldn’t care about a stranger met once on a flight. But-’ his expression twisted, a little regretful, a little bitter perhaps, ‘for reasons of my own,’ he echoed Yuuri’s words back to him pointedly, ‘that is how I feel, and I care about a stranger’s opinion of me. Tell me to drop this and I’ll watch Meg Ryan romantic-comedies for the rest of the flight and leave you alone, otherwise…’ he trailed off hopefully.

Feeling entirely incapable of answering that directly, Yuuri deflected. ‘What reasons do you have for caring about my opinion of you?’

Victor raised his eyebrow again and snorted faintly. ‘Ah, you have not drunk nearly enough vodka to unlock that question.’

Alcohol buzzed through his body and Yuuri gazed at Victor’s unfairly gorgeous face. ‘Tell me, and I’ll tell you something.’

Some of the familiar teasing humour came back into Victor’s eyes. ‘A game?’

‘With alcohol.’ Yuuri said firmly. Please.

‘If you’re trying to drink me into honesty, I should warn you I am Russian.’

‘And I am a lightweight, so you’ll have no trouble. I’m going first.’

Victor inclined his head.

‘Why do you care what I think of you?’

Victor laughed and shook his head. ‘Too big a question. You’re going to have to build up to that, Yuuri.’ Victor with alcohol in his system seemed to enjoy saying Yuuri’s name more frequently, lingering and drawing out the vowel sounds. ‘You forfeit your question. My turn. Would you have flirted with me if I hadn’t started?’

‘Please, I’m quiet and have anxiety. But,’ Yuuri continued because vodka, ‘I’d have wanted to. Why did you flirt with me?’

Victor shrugged easily. ‘Because you’re hot.’

The momentary silence shattered as they both laughed, Yuuri’s laugh an embarrassed, incredulous sound and Victor’s just open honesty.

‘Do you think I’m hot?’

Face turning red, Yuuri muttered, ‘You know the answer to that question already. Have you flirted with someone on a flight before?’

‘No. Did I do something to make you feel awkward this flight?’

A different tone crept between their words, more serious beneath the smiles. ‘No. Will you remember me when this is over and you’ve gone home?’

Victor’s fingers touched the back of Yuuri’s hand, almost light enough to be unnoticeable. ‘Yes. Will you think of me?’

Yuuri flexed his fingers and slid them up between Victor’s, his breath catching as Victor squeezed tightly over the back of his hand. ‘Of course.’

‘Of course?’

‘You’re hot,’ Yuuri echoed Victor’s words and they grinned, but their smiles faded just a little too fast.

‘Ask me why I care,’ Victor said quietly.

‘Why do you care, Victor?’

Victor didn’t lift his eyes from their joined hands and Yuuri gazed down at the fan of his white-blonde eyelashes. ‘Very few people know me outside of skating. I spend most of my time training at the rink by myself, with my coach, with a couple of other skaters, and there isn’t much time for anything else. When I meet people it’s usually through skating and everyone already knows who I am. Everyone already has an idea of what I will be like and the sort of person I am.’

Guilt curled in Yuuri’s chest as Victor continued.

‘You were the first person I’ve spoken to for a while that didn’t have any expectations. You weren’t comparing me to anything you thought I should be. And you seemed to like me, until you didn’t. And I suppose,’ Victor absently played with their hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth, ‘I’m afraid that I’m - too much? Too annoying - maybe I’m not that likable?’

He glanced up at Yuuri’s face and broke into a rueful smile. He muttered something in Russian and sat up straighter, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. ‘That was enough drama for the flight,’ he forced his voice louder. ‘More vodka, I think.’

‘Victor,’ Yuuri couldn’t keep the heavy regret from his voice.

Victor downed the rest of his drink. His expression had a forced brightness to it, smile in place, but Yuuri knew what he was going to ask now. He tugged his hand free, it didn’t feel right doing this with his hand in Victor’s. He didn’t miss the sadness and acknowledgement that flashed across Victor’s face. This wasn’t fair.

‘Well, that answers m-’

‘No,’ Yuuri cut him off. ‘I think you’re extremely likable. It’s just,’ he squeezed his hands over his thighs, ‘I don’t think you’ll like me that much now.’ His heart was in his throat. ‘See, I knew who you were, five time champion men’s figure skater.’

Shock set heavily over Victor’s face. Never one to hide his emotions, in this moment it was a little heartbreaking.

‘I didn’t want to make it awkward,’ Yuuri continued quietly. ‘I thought you’d ignore me.’

He paused for Victor to say something, he didn’t.

‘I didn’t think you’d keep talking to me. When you did it was - it was too late to say anything.’

‘So,’ Victor said eventually. It was a very final sounding _so_. ‘You knew who I was?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you lied.’

Yuuri’s heart sank. He told himself it was the reaction he expected, he knew this was coming. ‘Yes.’

‘You sat there listening as I told you how I felt, about skating, about myself and and you said nothing?’

‘Yes.’

‘ _Why?_ ’ It burst out, angry and loud. A few heads turned curiously in their direction and Yuuri sank in his seat. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Victor anymore. He felt capable of nothing more than whispering _yes_. ‘Are you a fan?’

Yuuri inclined his head in a half nod. He kept his face down. He heard Victor’s frustrated groan.

‘You knew I would never have told you anything if I had known, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So everything I said - I thought-’ Victor’s face twisted. ‘When I thought-’ again he broke off with a bitter curl to his mouth.

Ears ringing, Yuuri stared fixedly at the screen in front and swallowed thickly. He wanted to open his mouth and explain - this wasn’t it, it wasn’t what he thought - but his throat was clenched too tight. Beside him Victor was still and silent.

‘Fine,’ Victor continued finally, his voice was too quiet and flat. ‘Post, write, blog what you will online - did you take pictures of me too? - I don’t care.’

A couple wandered down the aisle past Yuuri, footsteps muffled on the carpet and voices quiet for each other. He caught the grins they flashed each other between words and the embarrassed smile on the man’s face as he dipped his head, the woman glancing back at him with amused fondness.

‘That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it?’ Victor kept talking, he wished he’d stop, he wished it was just over. The man reached forward gently to the girl and their finger tips brushed, a quiet, subtle touch as they passed Yuuri’s seat. ‘You only spoke to me because of my skating?’

Yuuri shook his head gently, drawing a steadying breath before he could speak. ‘No,’ he managed to say clearly.

‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’ Victor grew louder and sharper, words falling out faster. ‘You lied! Why would you do that? That’s why you didn’t want me sitting here, you felt guilty, didn’t you? You know, I think you’re right. I think I will forget you very quickly.’

Yuuri closed his eyes tightly. A hot tear slid down his cheek.

‘It wasn’t that great a kiss. Any of them, really. You did fine as a distraction. Tell me, what did you hope to get out of this? Did you think it would mea-’

He bent his head as his face crumpled. For a moment he sat there, eyes squeezed shut and head hanging as he cried. His shoulders shook and he covered his face with one hand, choking back as he tried to stay silent. It hurt. It was ridiculous how much it hurt.

Victor had stopped speaking. Of course he had been a distraction. Of course he was forgettable, he _knew_ this.

It was just -

‘Yuuri-’

‘I _know_ ,’ Yuuri choked angrily, surprising himself. ‘Y-you’ve ma-’ his voice shook and broke, ‘-made your point clear. I’m stu-’ he cracked on the last word, breaking to a whisper, ‘-stupid.’

And he felt it. Utterly, entirely stupid. His chest ached with it and the rejection he told himself he had expected. Of course Victor was angry, it made sense. He knew this mess of a meeting with Victor wasn’t worth what he was feeling, rationally he knew that, it was just no one seemed to have told his heart.

‘You’re upset.’

Yuuri kept his face buried in his hand, glasses dangling from his fingers. He sensed Victor shifting and then stilling in the seat beside him. It was as though a heavy blanket had been laid over his body, everything felt slow and distant, the skin of his face beneath his palm was at once both wet and numb, his hearing buzzing. Another warm tear trickled slowly down the backs of his fingers. Perhaps he wouldn’t have reacted like this if he hadn’t had something, many to drink, but perhaps it would have felt even worse. He wanted to think that the harshness and quick anger in Victor was fuelled by the three, four, something vodkas he had so far had, however he doubted it.

‘Of course I’m upset,’ Yuuri said finally with more honesty than intended. ‘I can hold your hand, touch your face,’ his voice got quieter as his cheeks turned red, ‘kiss you. And you don’t care at all.’

He rather felt Victor’s silence said everything. Face burning, Yuuri dug his fingertips into his forehead.

‘You said I-’ he couldn’t bring himself to repeat what Victor had said about kissing him.

Still the silence. It was true then.

‘I - I haven’t really kissed many people - anyone. Before you. Sorry.’ God, someone stop him _talking._ He shoved himself to his feet, fumbling hurriedly with his glasses and grabbing for his bag. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and looked anywhere but at Victor.

 

_6 hours and 41 minutes_

Yuuri sat on the toilet lid and cried, big, pointless tears that splatted down his cheeks and puddled messily around his nose.

 

_6 hours and 11 minutes_

Things went downhill from there. Surprisingly there were actually further depths to which this disaster could sink. It was amazing what could be accomplished with mini pocket-sized vodka and a generous serving of wine and crippling misery.

Dinner came and there was no teasing, no laughter as Victor peered over his shoulder, nothing, just a plain foil wrapped meal sitting on the table. Eating was the last thing Yuuri felt like doing. He tucked his hands under his arms and leaned his cheek against the headrest, staring blankly out into the cabin. The plane droned in the background and matched the empty buzz he felt inside his head.

Victor reached over and pulled the foil off Yuuri’s tray in one quick rip. ‘Eat your dinner,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m really not worth it.’

Yuuri glanced down at bland vegetables and felt, if possible, even less interested than before. Where earlier he had been an equal with Victor, he now felt the difference in the way he spoke and acted. He was no longer Yuuri, stranger on a plane, he was Yuuri, a Fan. An immature, idiot fan. He reached out and quite firmly placed the foil back on top of the tray. One of the trays. He placed it firmly somewhere in the vicinity of a tray. It was surprisingly difficult moving arms that felt like they’d been weighted to his side.

‘Wish I’d never met you,’ Yuuri confessed with easy bluntness.

‘You didn’t hit on me, I know that came from me.’ Victor’s voice had lost some of its harsh edge. ‘Perhaps it was an awkward situation from the start.’

Victor thought he was an obsessed lying stalker, awkward was an understatement. Only when Victor blinked did Yuuri realise he’d said that out loud. Definitely another drink. Yuuri firmly pressed the call button. If he could spend the rest of this flight unconscious that would be fantastic.

‘That isn’t how it is?’ For a moment Victor’s voice was achingly sad. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.’

‘You think I wanted this?’ Yuuri demanded incredulously. ‘You think I wasn’t _wishing_ you’d just walk past me? That you’d sit somewhere else? You’d sleep the whole flight, you’d leave at Dubai? I am awkward. I _am_ anxious. You think I’m not painfully aware how terrible a flirt I’d make? I am well aware I would be a poor distraction and I am _so stupid_ because because I thought, just for a moment, that I was something someone would want. Thank you for confirming how forgettable I am!’ Yuuri finished his furiously whispered speech with a sharp, shuddering breath. He wiped his hand roughly under his nose.

Victor’s still expression and reddening cheeks just made anger burn even hotter in Yuuri’s chest. Victor cleared his throat, once, twice. He looked down and swallowed. ‘Unfortunately,’ he said far too quietly, ‘you are not particularly forgettable.’

Yuuri barked an ugly laugh. ‘Right. Of course. That’s exactly what you said before.’

‘I was angry,’ Victor said simply.

‘No you were being honest. You think this is the first time you’ve seen me?’ Yuuri was setting himself on fire along with Victor and he didn’t care. ‘Twice.’ A hot tear splashed down Yuuri’s cheek and he swiped it away roughly. ‘You’ve seen me twice before. You watched me, you met me, you spoke to me and you forgot me, so you can save your lines and your pointless lies for someone else.’

‘Do you have any idea how many people I meet? How many pictures I take and autographs I sign?’

‘You sound so _arrog-_ _’_

‘Don’t twist my words.’

 ‘Don’t need to,’ Yuuri said bitterly. He fumbled impatiently for a tissue, jamming his hand in his pocket and swaying with the effort of holding his head up. If he was prepared to be honest with himself, which he wasn’t, he might have acknowledged that a large portion of his frustration was directed inwards. He knew it was nothing, it was a casual flirtation, he knew Victor would be angry if he revealed as a fan, he knew all of these things and still he had let it happen. It would seem however that there was a difference between knowing he was a meaningless fling and actually feeling it. Shame coiled heavy in his chest and prickled behind his eyes, kept distant and just out of reach by the buzz of alcohol through his body.

Face red, Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and dug in his other pocket for the tissues. No tissue. Just Victor’s extremely unwelcome presence in the seat over. Grabbing the armrest, he heaved himself to his feet. He barely registered Victor’s movements, a hand near his elbow -

‘Yuu-’

‘ _Don_ _’t-’_ the sudden anger in his voice surprised them both, Yuuri lowered his hand and exhaled, _‘-_ touch me.’

The clunk of the overhead bin was at once both a distant and loud sound, Yuuri didn’t bother to wonder why that might be. He braced one hand on the edge of the locker and yanked his bag down. It smacked down onto the ground at his feet. He stared down at it in silence.

‘I’m-’ He could feel the slur in his words. Touching his fingers to his face, Yuuri vaguely noted they felt numb.

 

_?_

He was in the toilet again. Sat on the toilet lid. Yuuri swayed sideways and fixed his gaze down - toilet lid. He could see he was sat on that. He gave it a careful pat to make sure.

He was eventually going to have to come out of the toilet, he accepted that on a vague level. The only real problem was he couldn’t be entirely sure exactly, precisely how long he’d already been in there. Here. He sighed and slumped backwards. It felt like he leaned backwards for a long time before his back eventually hit the wall and he sank limply downwards.

Had he spoken to Victor recently? After standing up? Maybe he had sat back down. He accepted that that would have been a bad thing to do but he couldn’t make himself feel the emotions attached to that thought.

Victor was gorgeous. He liked Victor. It hurt that Victor didn’t like him. Yuuri reached out and ran his fingertip slowly along the wall, staring unblinkingly at it. He let his finger drop to the edge of the basin, hanging there by the tip. He’d messed this up. Victor hadn’t remembered him, he should have just said so.

But that was embarrassing. Nicer to be interesting and attractive. Real him wasn’t those things. Yuuri slowly pulled his finger from the sink and dropped his arm to his side. Shouldn’t have said anything.

The plane engines hummed in a low, constant vibration. Sat under the bright yellow light, Yuuri felt his eyes drifting closed.

 

_?????_

With a sharp intake of breath Yuuri opened his eyes. His heart pounded in his ears. Toilet.

He was on his feet. He staggered sideways and slammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t hurt. Probably should have. The room spun dangerously but he remained on his feet, eyes half closed and head hanging. The plane shuddered and Yuuri braced his palms on the walls.

Out the door.

Taking careful, small steps, Yuuri slowly picked his way down the aisle. His eyes were probably too wide. It was the best he could do. That or half-shut. He was too aware of his face. Was his expression normal? Nothing felt right. At least the cabin lights were dimmed. Even if it did make it hard to see in the dizzying blur of dark shapes.

Also, where were his glasses?

Patting over his face and head for his glasses, Yuuri heaved himself sideways into his seat. Fell. Victor wasn’t there. That was good. He hauled his legs up onto Victor’s seat. Ridiculous attractive Victor. Yuuri shuffled his body down across the two seats and grabbed for a blanket. He’d sleep here until they landed.

 

_Probably 5 hours_

Yuuri woke up at some indeterminate point. Not properly awake, rather the heavy, distant sense of awareness that comes on the edge of sleep. The plane was a constant drone drowning out his senses and he remained still in his seat, curled up warm and heavy beneath the blanket. Something had woken him up. He was dimly conscious of someone standing beside him in the aisle.

Half asleep and with his glasses off, Victor’s face was blurred at the edges. Yuuri stirred faintly and blinked once.

‘Victor?’ He mumbled, mouth dry and voice hoarse.

Maybe he imagined it, maybe he was still dreaming, but it seemed like Victor looked sad. There could have been the faint pressure of a hand on his shoulder, just for a moment.

But he was probably dreaming.

 

_2 hours and 39 minutes_

His mouth was dry. Yuuri swallowed around the sandpaper in his throat and cracked open his eyes, staring up at the blurred ceiling. The dark seatbelt sign spun gently and shifted out of focus. He was… Blinking and swallowing around a dizzying wave of nausea, Yuuri lifted his head. He was lying down on his back. With his legs draped half over Victor’s lap.

‘How are you feeling?’ Victor was staring down at him, his expression unreadable.

‘Awful,’ Yuuri said hoarsely. He didn’t move.

Victor lifted his hand from Yuuri’s knee and pulled a pair of glasses from his collar. ‘Yours,’ he handed them back, their fingers brushing as Yuuri silently accepted them. ‘You were really quite insistent that I take them.’

‘So I - I spoke to you.’

‘You had a lot to say.’

Expecting anger, expecting derision in Victor’s face, and with defiance building in his throat, Yuuri lifted his eyes to Victor’s. In the dim cabin light, Victor held his gaze in silence.

‘About?’ Oh, did he even want to know?’

‘My abilities as a skater, my failings as a human being.’

Victor’s face was set strangely, his pressed and his eyes a little too bright. Bristling with humiliation, hurt, and uncertainty, Yuuri glared back.

‘Also,’ Victor’s voice had an uneven break, ‘some insight into your current feelings towards myself.’

Obviously Yuuri had sobered up too soon. He was now going to have to lock himself back in the toilet, where he would remain until landing. In the grips of utter horror, Yuuri felt himself rising to his feet and turning instinctively towards the toilets.

‘Yuuri. Please,’ the words caught oddly as Victor spoke, ‘wi-’ he cut himself off abruptly and looked down. His hand touched Yuuri’s seat in a silent request.

Unsure and with a long moment of hesitation, Yuuri slipped down into the seat. His fingers gripped white on the armrest. Had he spoke about his own skating?

‘I would have liked,’ Victor spoke quietly, almost as if he was unsure of his ability to say the words, ‘to have been liked for myself. Not some pointless, idolised version.’ He caught Yuuri’s eye. ‘Does that explain something of why I was upset?’

Rigid in deep, unspeakable awkwardness, Yuuri just nodded. He needed copious amounts of hard spirits to discuss his emotions but apparently Victor had no such inhibitions. There was no way for this to end well. Surely they could just ignore each other and he would simply regret every single action that had led to being on this flight?

‘Is your hoodie wet?’ Yuuri asked suddenly.

‘Ah.’ Victor touched the front of his top. ‘Yes. An accident with water.’

Yuuri stared in growing dread. Surely not - ‘Was that - did I -’

‘I tried to give you a cup, you refused quite firmly.’

No amount of shadow would have been enough to hide the horror on Yuuri’s face. ‘Victor, I am so s-’

‘My fault. I dropped it. Even Russians have an upper limit on vodka.’

Not entirely sure he believed Victor, Yuuri stared awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what he _had_ said and that was the heavy, pressing problem. He could see in Victor’s face that something had changed, the anger was gone and replaced by a quieter regret and sadness. Was it sadness? What had he _said?_ He’d insulted him, unburdened his feelings,  and flung water on him? In the cold clarity of horror, Yuuri could acknowledge that Victor had really done nothing wrong. He knew Victor wouldn’t want to hear he was a fan, that he had been hiding it, of course he would feel upset at the lies. But why was he upset?

Yuuri bent and rummaged quickly through his bag. He sat up with his sweater in hand, face flushed and hair flopped over his eyes. Victor blinked and looked away.

‘Here.’ Yuuri held out his sweater.

Victor stared in silence.

Wrung out and exhausted, Yuuri was suddenly too tired to do this. ‘You’re going to spend the next five hours in that top?’

Maybe Victor saw something of that in his face. Maybe he felt the same. He hesitated, then accepted the sweater. ‘It’d have dried in two.’

‘Oh, two hours? Well in that case I’ll have my sweater back, thanks.’ It was an automatic, unthinking response and he heard Victor chuckle.

In the dark cabin, a faint light caught in Victor’s eyes as he looked across at Yuuri, almost asking permission for the smile still curving his lips. It was too easy to smile that same tentative smile back.

It had been a day of belated realisations. Staring into Victor’s soft expression, Yuuri realised something else.

Despite the lies, and the betrayal Victor said he felt, he was gazing at Yuuri with a sad, regretful sort of fondness. Or perhaps it was quiet longing. It was in the tilt of his lips and the creases to the side of his eyes. There was unmistakably fondness.

How could anyone come to care in just one day? It wasn’t logical.

‘You should change your top,’ Yuuri said finally, at a loss for anything else to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to feel, what it made sense to think. Victor Nikiforov felt something for him. He’d made someone care. _Victor._

At no point in his fleeting fantasies had he imagined Victor might share something of his ill-advised, illogical affection. Regardless of some of the more exotic twists his imagination had taken, every pictured scenario for this flight had ended with farewelling Victor at the gates. Victor would would be charming and amusing, maybe a kiss would be stolen, but ultimately he would walk away without a backwards glance. Yuuri was now facing the possibility that Victor might be at least half as reluctant to part as he himself was. Surely it just had to be the novelty of meeting someone outside of skating, as untrue as that might have later turned out to be. Surely that was the reason for Victor’s attachment?

Victor held Yuuri’s sweater and glanced out across the cabin. Everyone was still and quiet beneath their blankets, slumped against the shoulders of family and friends. Without any sense of shame, Victor seized the hem of his hoodie and stripped it smoothly over his head, t-shirt and all. Yuuri choked. He was fit. Very clearly trained hard on the ice. The low cabin lights and deep shadows did some incredibly flattering things for the line of muscle down his stomach and Yuuri unsuccessfully tried not to stare.

‘I do know when you’re staring at me, Yuuri.’

Happily the cabin was dark and Yuuri could hide his blush in the shadows.

Victor yanked the sweater down over his head and shot Yuuri an amused glance through tousled hair. ‘Not saying I mind, remember.’ He grinned and Yuuri badly wanted to kiss him. Perhaps something of that showed on his face. Victor’s smile faded just a little, replaced by something quieter and searching. ‘What do you want from me, Yuuri?’

Yuuri leant his head back and scrubbed his palms over his eyes. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that I honestly had no intention of speaking to you on these flights?’

‘Not even a little bit?’

Yuuri shook his head and dropped his hands. ‘I was just going to stop drinking water and cross my legs for fifteen hours and sit still in my seat.’

And Victor laughed. Just a small, involuntary chuckle but it was still there. ‘And then I opened my mouth, didn’t I?’

‘And then you opened your mouth,’ Yuuri agreed.

‘Sorry.’ Victor didn’t sound the least bit sorry. ‘But you were very cute.’

The tips of Yuuri’s ears turned red but still he said, ‘Were?’

‘Oh Yuuri,’ was all Victor said quietly. He turned to face Yuuri and gazed at him with a soft, unreadable expression. ‘Shall I kiss you again?’

Like an idiot, like he _enjoyed_ torturing himself, he reached and touched Victor’s cheek. Just a soft brush of fingertips down his jaw. ‘I wish you wanted to.’

Victor murmured something he didn’t understand. ‘I do. I did. Please - what I said before - I was angry. I didn’t mean it, Yuuri. I would kiss you now, I would kiss you again, and again, and I would keep kissing you until you couldn’t breathe.’

He already couldn’t breathe. ‘I’m - I’m sorry, I should have just told you I knew.’

‘Yes, you should have.’

‘But I-’ Yuuri paused and closed his eyes, just briefly to collect himself, ‘I know it’s only been twenty-five hours and no-one can ever really know a person in such a short time, but I like you, Victor. I don’t care that you skate. That wasn’t what made you likable. Remember when you were telling me your version of an embarrassing story? You had your legs tucked up and you’d taken your shoes off, your socks don’t match, did you know that? You were sat there in your mismatched socks and you kept laughing your ridiculous laugh and I don’t think anyone could have looked at you and not seen how great you are.’

Victor made a quiet noise and Yuuri looked up into wide blue eyes. ‘What I want from you is - unrealistic,’ Yuuri continued. Honesty came easier in the close space between them, in the stillness pressing through the dark cabin, the sense that they were the only two humans awake and together in this moment. ‘I don’t know if there’s any point talking about it.’

 

_2 hours and 15 minutes_

Yuuri sat with his knees up to his chest, cradling a cup of sprite and focusing beyond the queasy, hungover feeling in his stomach. Most people were sleeping, just a few reading lights dotted the cabin. A flight attendant walked past, the quiet swish of her skirt and pad of footsteps muted.

‘Hello.’

Yuuri looked up into the awkward face of Yuri Plisetsky.

‘Did I fuck things up?’ Yuri asked abruptly.

‘Kinda, yeah.’

‘Okay. Sorry.’

Yuuri shrugged and Yuri jammed his hands in his pockets.

‘So you’ve told him, yeah?’ Yuri asked.

Stretching his legs out, Yuuri looked across at Victor’s sleeping face. He was dribbling a little on to his own shoulder and in some weird way it was touchingly adorable. ‘I told him I knew who he was, haven’t told him that I skate.’

‘ _Why not you idi-_ _’_

‘Because it’s embarrassing,’ Yuuri cut him off shortly.

‘Can I tell him when this flight’s over?’

Again Yuuri shrugged. ‘I’d rather it if you didn’t, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. He’s quitting skating and I don’t think I’ll skate again, so I won’t see him again.’

Yuri snorted and scuffed his foot on the carpet. ‘Don’t bet on it, Katsuki, he’s into you. If you tell him you want to, he’ll make sure you see each other again. Just saying.’

Yuuri looked at him in silence for a moment. ‘You came back here to make sure I knew that, didn’t you?’

The carpet received a particularly vicious kick. ‘He’s not bad, you know. He’s okay. Gets attached stupidly easy though.’ Yuri flicked his eyes up to Yuuri, just for a second. They exchanged a nod. Then Yuuri sighed and slumped back in the seat.

‘I thought it was just a game to him. Who feels anything at all after just one day?’

‘Too much information,’ Yuri said firmly. ‘I don’t actually care that much.’

Except he did and Yuuri could see it in his face. In silence he transferred his sprite to one hand and reached out with the other, he looped his arm around Victor’s shoulders and slowly guided him sideways. He was a heavy, warm weight beneath Yuuri’s arm and Yuuri gently settled his head under his chin. Sat like that, Victor slumped asleep under his arm and against his chest, Yuuri felt a protective spark. He lifted his hand where it was curled around Victor’s shoulder and slid it softly over his head, pushing his hair from his forehead.

‘Just, like, give him your number or something, okay?’

 

_50 minutes_

Victor was snoring. Small, droning little snores against Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri had long given up pretending to watch a movie and instead sat there with his eyes closed, drifting to the sound of Victor’s breathing and the solid warmth of his body under his arm.

They were were going to start their descent soon. Was it selfish to wish Victor was awake? Somehow they’d come a full circle, from that first flirting, Yuuri telling himself it wasn’t meant to matter and it wasn’t meant to last, to the awful clarity of the last few hours, to Yuuri once again gazing at Victor, telling himself it wasn’t meant to matter and it wasn’t meant to last.

Yuuri dipped his head and pressed a quick kiss to Victor’s forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. There was a lot he was sorry for, he wasn’t even sure if he could define it for himself. For how he felt, for the things he had said, the stupid choices he had made, for how Victor felt, for how Victor perhaps felt about him.

Victor stirred slightly and mumbled something.

‘Victor?’ Yuuri said softly. He was selfish. He did want Victor to wake up and spend these last minutes with him. Victor made a small noise of protest and remained still. ‘We’ll be landing soon.’

‘No.’ It was mumbled, but still audible. Yuuri felt much the same.

‘Sorry.’

This time with a louder groan, Victor slowly stretched and curled back in against Yuuri. There was something intimate in feeling Victor stretch against his body, half-asleep and pressed in close, clothes rumpled and riding against his own. ‘How long?’ Victor’s voice was deep and rough with sleep, far too close to Yuuri’s ear.

‘Less than an hour now.’

Another unhappy, sleepy groan. ‘No,’ he repeated.

Despite himself, Yuuri smiled. ‘You must be fun to wake up in the morning.’

‘Come to St Petersburg and find out,’ Victor mumbled.

‘I’d like that,’ Yuuri said honestly, because why not? What did he have to lose? It wouldn’t happen, the real Yuuri was anxious with an underwhelming skating career, Victor hadn’t thought that Yuuri was cute. Or hot. But in this moment, there was no reason to hide that he quite honestly thought Victor was fantastically attractive.

The kiss Victor pressed beneath his ear was hot, suggestive, and not faintly sleepy. ‘Good,’ Victor murmured.

He got his wish. Victor by his side, an arm slung over his shoulder as the plane slowly began its descent. It was a bittersweet feeling. Victor felt something in return, but it still had to end.

 

_Landed_

The lights were too bright when the plane landed. Yawning, stumbling people poured out into the aisles, tiredness etched into faces and in quiet voices. Outside it was still night. Yuuri stifled a yawn into his hand and hitched his bag up in his arms, shifting his weight as they stood waiting to disembark.

Victor looped his arm around Yuuri’s chest, tugging him backwards and pressing a kiss to the back of his head. It was so effortlessly affectionate that Yuuri’s heart almost hurt, but he just closed his eyes, smiled and leaned back into Victor’s chest. Things weren’t resolved, not really. He didn’t know what he had said while drunk, and he didn’t know what Victor was truly thinking, but there wasn’t time for that now. For these last minutes he could ignore that all.

 

_Baggage claim_

Yuri’s hair was mussed and he looked like a cat brushed backwards. He saw them approaching and Yuuri watched his eyes drop to Victor’s sweater. For the smallest moment, Yuuri thought he saw something pleased cross his face. Then his expression reverted to normal.

‘Have fun in peasant class?’ Yuri sneered as they caught up.

‘I missed you greatly.’ Victor grabbed Yuuri’s face and dropped a loud kiss to the top of his head, ignoring the yelled protests.

Yuuri wandered ahead with Yakov, leaving Yuri and Victor to bicker behind them. They followed the crowds of people filtering down the corridors towards the baggage claim. Yuuri’s feet dragged, he wanted nothing more than to lay down, stretch out properly and _sleep_.

Yakov clapped his shoulder. ‘Will we see you at the Grand Prix again this year?’

Yuuri tensed beneath his hand. ‘I-I don’t know if I’ll watch.’

Yakov squeezed his shoulder, giving him a brief shake. ‘I’m not asking if you’ll watch, boy, I’m asking if you’ll skate again. You messed it last time, shouldn’t let that stop you.’

There was a thud as something hit the ground. Heart in his throat, Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to turn around. Not _now._ Surely not now, not after everything. He could see the baggage carousels from here and the final customs exit, it was so close to being over, this perfect mess of an amazing, disastrous flight. And Yakov had known all along. Despite himself he almost wanted to laugh, an over-tired, hysterical, hopeless laugh.

Frowning, Yakov stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Victor was staring in stunned silence, bag on the ground beside him.

‘Told you I wasn’t memorable,’ Yuuri tried to joke. It just felt hollow. It was out. It was done. Strangely, he almost felt relief.

‘ _Vitya._ _’_ Yakov glowered at him, managing to fit annoyance, exasperation, and resignation into that one well-used glare. ‘Yo-’

‘ _Why didn_ _’t you tell me?_ ’

People streamed around them as they stood in the centre of the passage, the three of them stopped silent at the shock in Victor’s voice.

‘I-’

‘You didn’t _tell me_.’ There was a stunned, wretched catch in his voice and Yuuri’s throat clenched. ‘You could have _told_ me.’

Quietly, Yuri stepped behind Victor and picked up his forgotten bag.

‘You’ve -’ Yuuri cleared his throat and tried to force his voice louder, ‘you’re almost the most decorated male skater. I - I came last. At the Grand Prix, I was so bad. You didn’t even recognise me afterwards.’ Victor hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, and Yuuri felt himself keep talking, the words spilling out faster. ‘I wanted to pretend I was the person you liked on the plane.’

Victor stared at him.

‘That’s why? _That_ _’s_ why you didn’t tell me?’

Yuuri twitched one shoulder in a shrug as Victor searched his face. This was it. If he had thought it was bad bef -

And then Victor laughed.

It was Yuuri’s turn to stare.

‘So what did you do with this _real_ Yuuri? The one that wasn’t who I liked on the plane? Is he locked up somewhere in Japan?’ Amusement crinkled the corners of Victor’s eyes and coloured his voice.

‘Victor,’ Yuuri said heavily.

‘No, Yuuri, please do tell me.’ Victor’s amusement was obvious now and his mouth fighting a smile. ‘Tell me how that wasn’t you. Tell me why I’d care that you flubbed _one_ competition.’

Yuuri didn’t know where to look. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, opening them up to stare at a point on the ceiling beyond Victor’s head. ‘You didn’t remember me. Yuri said you only remember the important things.’

‘Yuuri,’ Victor’s voice was all warmth. ‘I can assure you, I didn’t pay attention to this Grand Prix for reasons wholly unconnected to you. I will be more than happy to explain them to you later, should you like.’

‘Right,’ Yuuri said faintly.

‘Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s top male figure skater,’ Victor was looking at him with open warmth, ‘what did I do right to get you sitting next to me?’

‘Left your seat booking to the last minute?’ Yuuri didn’t know what to say, it just fell out automatically.

Victor grinned. ‘I’ll have you know I was relatively organised, Yakov and Yuri were the ones that didn’t book until later.’

‘You missed out on first class,’ Yuuri pointed out. The fluorescent lights of the airport were bright overhead and the whole scene felt somehow surreal.

‘Mm, true.’ And Victor kissed him.

He slid both hands into Yuuri’s hair and gripped firmly, curling his fingers as he pressed a slow, open-mouth kiss to Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri inhaled sharply. Being kissed by Victor was an overwhelming experience, but for the first time in this entire trip he felt - free. It was all said now. There was nothing more he had to hide. Yuuri closed his eyes and finally, _finally_ relaxed into the warmth of Victor’s kiss, his body. Until Victor pulled back.

‘God, Yuuri, I thought there was going to be some horrific reason why you hadn’t told me you skate.’

‘My Grand Prix performance _was_ horrific,’ Yuuri murmured, chasing Victor’s mouth, unwilling to break the kiss. He felt Victor’s breath puff against his lips as he laughed and tugged Victor back down into a kiss, cutting him off before he could speak. Victor obliged with a slow, intense kiss, dragging Yuuri’s bottom lip through his teeth in a way that made Yuuri’s toes curl. But keeping Victor silent apparently took more effort than that. Yuuri could feel him smiling even before he pulled back again.

‘I’ve seen worse. I’ve skated worse.’

Yuuri groaned, partly from embarrassment and mainly because he just wanted to keep _kissing_ Victor. ‘I was so afraid I’d just blurted it out after all those vodkas.’

‘Oh no,’ Victor grinned against the side of Yuuri’s mouth, ‘you said a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.’

‘What did I say?’

‘Perhaps I will tell you later.’ Victor laughed and tipped his head back to avoid Yuuri’s glare. ‘I will-’ he turned his head to the side as Yuuri attempted to hold him steady and kept grinning, ‘- I will say that I was left in no doubts regarding how attractive you found me.’

Yuuri dropped his hands from Victor’s cheeks with another groan. He pressed his palms over his eyes and felt his cheeks burn. Still laughing, Victor slung an arm around his shoulders and tugged him in against his chest.

‘Don’t be embarrassed, Yuuri. I was glad to know. Made me feel like an arse for the things I said.’

Yuuri stayed like that for a moment, tucked in close with Victor. They’d made their way to the edge of the corridor, half hidden behind a pillar and a lone seat. Yakov and Yuri had long since made their exit towards the carousels. After a minute Yuuri dropped his hands from his face. ‘I didn’t think you would react so calmly.’

‘To realising who you were? Yuuri, this entire flight has been unexpectedly dramatic. I feel like I have exhausted my ability to be surprised. Unless there’s anything else shocking you have to tell m-’

Victor reacted delightfully to being silenced with a kiss. Yuuri tried to pour a lot of feeling into that kiss. One arm wound around Victor’s waist and the other hand buried in his hair, Yuuri kissed with all the longing he’d kept buried this flight. It came as a vague surprise to acknowledge he’d quite like to press Victor up against that wall behind them. What he’d do next was unknown, but he felt having Victor flush against his body and moaning would be a good start.

When he drew back Victor was fantastically ruffled and maybe just a little breathless.

‘We should - and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we should really go get our bags.’ Victor hadn’t taken his eyes of Yuuri, and Yuuri get could get used to being looked at in that way.

‘Probably.’ Yuuri reluctantly slid his hand out from its tangled grip in Victor’s hair.

‘I’m still wearing your sweater.’

Yuuri shrugged and tried to play it cool, like he wasn’t extremely aware that Victor Nikiforov was standing there wearing his clothes. ‘It’s fine.’

‘I mean, I could just take it off n-’

‘No,’ Yuuri said firmly, but unable to keep from grinning at the wicked spark in Victor’s eyes. ‘Keep it on.’ He chose his next words very deliberately. ‘You can give it back next time.’

Victor’s answering smile was gorgeous.

 

_Hasetsu_

Saying goodbye to Victor had been difficult.

Yuuri bent and laced up his skates. Even weeks later, back home now, he could still feel the tight squeeze of Victor’s arms around his back. As requested by Yuri and his own feelings, he’d given his number to Victor and taken his in exchange. Thankfully Victor had text him first, before he had time to second-guess himself, convince himself he’d somehow got it wrong, that Victor didn’t _really_ want him to text. But texts were still just…texts. Eventually they were going to stop. Yuuri tugged on his gloves and stood up at the edge of the rink.

Yuuri took a deep breath. ‘Yuuko, can you record something for me?’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Yuuri's descent into drunken disarray is unfortunately quite accurately modeled on my usual trajectory after overdoing the vodka. Including the rapid bounce back to sobriety, which gives you plenty of time to really think about all the ill-advised things you might have done.

**Author's Note:**

> Where they are flying is irrelevant to the story, mainly because I can't really justify (without significant weaseling) why they'd be flying any route that takes 25 hours. The only people flying that are Australians trying to escape their 46 degrees hellhole of a country.


End file.
